Hermione Granger and the Half-Blood Prince
by the.chivalrous.scribbler
Summary: As Hermione Granger begins her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she meets an intriguing stranger and wishes to get to know him better. ー Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts from her point of view instead of Harry's, plus an added character and storyline. Hermione/OC.
1. Advanced Potion Making

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any rights to the Harry Potter series or characters. All rights and earnings belong to J.K. Rowling and respective owners.

Author's Note: This story will be following Hermione through her sixth year at Hogwarts and will stick closely to canon (the sixth book more than the movie) but will have an original character and a story line that goes along with that.  
Just as a heads up, if you're a Ron/Hermione shipper, this is probably not the story for you. I love Ron, and he's one of my favorite characters (though he often makes me mad), but I don't ship him with Hermione one bit. I hope to shed some light on some of the times he's mistreated her, but keep in mind that I DO like Ron. I don't hate Ron or think he's "the useless friend—" (he's quite the opposite!), but I do think he mistreats Hermione and gets away with it. So with that in mind, please enjoy chapter one...

* * *

 ** _Chapter One: Advanced Potion Making_**

It was a singularly agitated Hermione Jean Granger that hurried along the dark, cold corridor of the dungeons. She could hear students shuffling out of potions class behind her and wondered whether Harry and Ron were among them, but she didn't bother looking back to see.

 _I can't believe Harry actually used the directions in that old potion book. Who knows who it belonged to?_

Hermione thought back to their second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A diary, belonging to Tom Riddle, had possessed poor Ginny Weasley, and the memory living inside of it had nearly killed Harry, herself, and several of the other students. Perhaps this potion book was just as dangerous?

 _I'll need to cast a revealing charm on that potions book,_ she thought, _Specialis Revelio should do the trick._

"Besides," she said aloud, thoroughly offended by the thought, "Using the directions in that book is just like cheating."

Hermione suddenly collided head on with a tall figure in dark clothing. Several of her books she hadn't bothered to put back into her bag after rushing out of potions class tumbled to the floor.

"I'm terribly sorry," the man said cheerfully. "I' didn't see you coming."

"It's perfectly alright," Hermione sighed looking down at her books. _I hope I'm not late for Arithmancy,_ she thought to herself, annoyed.

They both crouched down and started to pick her books up.

"I'm sorry too," Hermine stated absentmindedly, still not looking at the man. "I'm afraid I was preoccupied and wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

They stood up. "What's this about cheating?"

Hermione finally looked at him. He was smiling playfully at her, and she felt a twinge of annoyance. "Nothing."

He extended his free hand to her, his other still holding several of her books. "I'm Callum Rafferty."

"Hermione Granger," she curtly replied, shaking his hand.

He was younger, probably in his early twenties, with brown hair. He was good looking she noticed, which caused yet another annoyance she could not explain. Her thought process instantly arrived at her hair. It was even more bushy and frizzy—a result of the fumes from her failed Draught of Living Death—than usual. She was sure she looked ridiculous. _Why should I care though?_ she thought.

"May I have my books please?"

"Yes, of course." He handed them to her.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get to my Arithmancy class now."

"Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Granger," he smiled.

She couldn't help but let a small smile escape her lips as she passed him.

* * *

Later that evening, as Hermione sat in the Gryffindor Common Room watching Crookshanks comfortably dozing on a rug in front of the fire, her thoughts drifted back to that morning.  
 _I wonder why he's here? He's too old to be a student, but I'm positive he's not part of the staff._ Her thoughts were interrupted as two teenage boys sat down on the sofa on either side of her.

"What're you doing?" Ron asked.

"Just some Transfiguration homework," she replied turning back to the Transfiguration book she had previously been ignoring.

" _Transfiguration_?" Ron echoed, a horrified expression on his face. "I thought you said that wasn't due until next week?"

"Yes, I'm rather surprised you actually listened, Ronald," Hermione snapped, regretting her tone a moment later.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to concentrate."

Ron chuckled. "Still upset 'bout that book, aren't you?"

Hermione didn't answer.

Harry, finally speaking up, said, "Come on, Hermione. You performed that revealing spell on it at dinner, and nothing happened."

"There's several other spells I should test it with," Hermione insisted, turning to Harry. "Besides, it's not _you_ doing the work. You're just copying from that book!"

Harry felt a twinge of guilt at her words. He had felt bad beating Hermione that day, but he liked the idea of finally not being dead awful at potions.

Ron laughed. "Now we know the real reason you don't like that book. You're just upset that Harry did better than you!"

"That isn't it, Ron-"

"Come off it, 'Mione. You're just-"

Hermione slammed her Transfiguration book shut, rising from the couch and ascending the stairs to the girl's dormitory without another word to either of them.

* * *

Well, that was chapter one (short as it was). I hope you enjoyed reading it. Input, suggestions, and constructive criticisms are always welcomed. The next chapter should be longer, and hopefully I'll be able to upload it soon. Thank you so much for reading!


	2. The Gryffindor Quidditch Tryouts

Author's Note: Since it's the weekend I decided to go ahead and upload the second chapter. I would like to thank everyone who read the first chapter, favorited, followed, and reviewed. Special thanks to STAusd, Marcinox, florperlachiquis52, jarjarobot324, and the two guest reviewers who showed their support. Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy chapter two!

* * *

 _ **Chapter Two: Gryffindor Quidditch Tryouts**_

Hermione thought that her first week back at Hogwarts had gone well, but she was grateful when Saturday rolled around and she was able to crash on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room to immerse herself in her Transfiguration homework.

"This week's been almost as bad as our O.W.L. homework last year," Ron groaned as he slumped into an armchair by the fire. "And it's only just begun," he added incredulously.

"It's only going to get worse from here, so you better stay on top of your homework," Hermione warned, not bothering to look up from her own homework and beginning to regret her decision to study in the common room instead of the library.

The weekend passed much too quickly, but Hermione was able to finish her Transfiguration _and_ Arithmancy homework, giving her the advantage over the following week's homework.

As the Gryffindor Quidditch Tryouts on Saturday grew closer, Hermione noticed Ron was growing more and more anxious. She assured him on several occasions that he had played magnificently the previous year and was sure to again, but that didn't seem to help.

"Yeah, but Harry's already said that being on the team the year before doesn't guarantee you a spot this year," Ron had mumbled back, seeking more reassurance.

Ron's Transfiguration homework seemed to be piling up at an alarming rate, so Hermione offered to help him with it, hoping to relieve some of his worries.  
He had gladly accepted her offer, and it wasn't long until Harry gravitated toward them with his own Transfiguration homework.

Saturday arrived, and Hermione had been irritated, but not too surprised, when Harry had chosen to keep the Half-Blood Prince's copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ instead of trading it in for the brand new copy Flourish and Blotts had sent him.

Her irritation had been momentarily forgotten as she unfolded her morning copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and scanned it.

The front page had told of the arrest of Stanley Shunpike, the man who ran the Knight Bus. He was suspected of being a Death Eater.  
Neither she, Harry, nor Ron found it very likely that he was _actually_ a Death Eater.

After the three of them had finished eating, they made their way to the Quidditch pitch. Hermione noticed Ron growing paler with every step he took, and Hermione knew it had nothing to do with the cool autumn air cutting through her jacket.

They passed Parvati Patil and Lavender Brow, both deep in conversation until Parvati spotted them. She nudged Lavender who quickly turned their way and smiled at Ron.

Ron's face, alarmingly pale only minutes before, suddenly grew more animated, and Hermione could swear she saw him smirk. His walk became more confident.  
Hermione glanced over at Harry who appeared to be trying not to laugh.  
Although amused, Hermione was simultaneously annoyed and disappointed that Ron could be influenced in such a way by a girl as silly as Lavender Brown. The girl believed in all that nonsense Professor Trelawney spouted out ー how thick could you get?

Hermione made her way to the stands, not bothering to wish good luck to Ron, and found a seat where she could watch the tryouts with ease.  
She was busy watching Harry talk with Cormac McLaggen when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"You haven't been cheating anymore, have you, Miss Granger?"

Callum Rafferty sat down beside her, smiling. Despite his comment, Hermione felt, to her own surprise, happy to see him.

"What do you mean?" Hermione retorted.

"The other day, when I bumped into you, you were mumbling something about cheating."

"Oh," Hermione murmured, turning back to face the Quidditch field. "Well, I wasn't talking about myself..."

Rafferty smiled. "Don't take it to heart. I was only joking."

Hermione saw McLaggen sit down a few rows below her looking irritated.

"Big fan of Quidditch are you?" Rafferty asked as all the players began separating into groups of ten.

Hermione chuckled, lightening up some. "Not really. I'm just here to watch some friends."

"Oh? Which ones are yours then?"

Hermione pointed to Ron, once again looking nervous and pale. Lavender Brown's influence had been short-lived apparently. "That's Ron Weasley, and the captain is my other friend ーHarry Potter." Hermione watched for Rafferty's reaction to Harry's name, but he didn't react.

"Arthur Weasley's boy, isn't he?" Rafferty asked non-chalantly, as if he already knew the answer, and gestured to Ron.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, he is."

"Good man Arthur Weasley... It would seem you've chosen your friends wisely, Miss Granger," he smiled.

They both turned their attention back to the tryouts. The groups of ten had flown around the pitch several times, the majority falling off their broomsticks or crashing into things, and one group was now strewn atop one another in a large pile.

"That happened to me once," Rafferty commented as they watched the group struggle to get back on their feet. "I had the misfortune to be the one on the bottom."

Hermione laughed. "You played Quidditch?"

"Only for my third and fourth years. I was too busy with my O.W.L.s in my fifth year to be able to join the team."

"Were you any good?"

Rafferty shrugged. . "We lost the house cup both years."

Hermione noticed the scarlet and gold scarf tucked beneath his coat and asked, "Gryffindor?"

Rafferty smiled and nodded in reply.

Hermione bit her lip. "Mr. Rafferty," she tentatively said, "I was just wondering ーer, what are you doing here at Hogwarts?"

"I'm an Auror."

"An Auror?" she echoed. _Why didn't I think of that before? Of course he's an Auror. Duh._

"Yes, I've been stationed here at Hogwarts with several other Aurors to keep an eye out on... _things_."

By _things,_ she knew he in part meant Harry. Hermione still couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. Of course he was an Auror. She knew they were staying in Hogsmeade by order of the Minsitry, keeping a watchful eye on Hogwarts.

"I can understand why you didn't have time for Quidditch then," Hermione stated. "The O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. standards for Aurors are high. My friend Harry is hoping to become one."

"From everything I've heard he would make an excellent Auror."

Hermione smiled. She knew he would too.  
She noticed Cormac McLaggen flying up to the goalposts. Ron was standing below, watching McLaggen with apprehension.

Ginny tossed the first Quaffle. _Blocked._ The secondー _blocked._  
Hermione sighed as the third and fourth Quaffles were blocked too.

She bit her lip. They had been learning non-verbal spells in Defense Against the Darks Arts class with Professor Snape, and she felt sure that she could cast a _Confundus_ charm on McLaggen without anyone noticing, except...

Callum Rafferty was sitting directly beside her. She had enjoyed their talk more than she had expected she would, but she hoped he would leave so she could give Ron a helping hand. She knew it was against the rules, but...

Suddenly Rafferty stood up. "Would you excuse me, Miss Granger?"

"Of course."

As his footsteps grew fainter and fainter, Hermione turned back toward the goalposts just as Ginny was launching the Quaffle toward the left goalpost.

 _Confundo..._

McLaggen abruptly shot off toward the right, and the Quaffle sailed through the left goalpost. Hermione smirked and looked down at her lap. There was some laughter from the stands as McLaggen descended, looking vexed.

"Good luck!" Hermione heard Lavender Brown call to Ron.

Ginny tossed the first Quaffle. _Blocked._ The secondー _blocked._ The third, fourthー _blocked._  
Hermione held her breath as Ginny tossed the fifth and final Quaffle.  
Ron almost fell off his broom in the process, but he successfully blocked it.

Hermione stood up and made her way toward the field. She smiled at the sight of Ron, looking the happiest she'd seen him since he had won the match last year while she and Harry had been in the Forbidden Forrest with Hagrid.  
Harry and McLaggen were talking; neither one of them looked happy with the other. As Hermione's feet touched the grass, McLaggen stormed away, leaving a pale Harry in his wake.

Hermione glanced back momentarily to see Rafferty leaned up against the stands. He shot her a mischievous smile before giving her a little wave and disappearing behind the stands.

She smiled to herself, sure that a little color was rising to her cheeks, and wondered if he had seen her cast that charm.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed that. Suggestions and constructive criticisms are always welcome. I plan on uploading the third chapter soon. Thanks again!


	3. The Cursing of Katie Bell

Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who's read the first two chapters, followed, favorited, and reviewed. Your support is GREATLY appreciated and encouraging. Here's chapter three, and I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Three: The Cursing of Katie Bell**_

Hermione, despite herself, found herself hoping to see Callum Rafferty again. Her thoughts often drifted back to that Saturday when they had sat together watching the Gryffindor Quidditch Tryouts.

Before Hermione knew it September was gone, and October had arrived.

Once, Hermione had thought she had seen Rafferty rounding a corner on the third floor corridor. She had quickened her pace and rounded the corner, but if it had been him, he had already been gone. Disappointed, she had continued on to the Gryffindor Common Room to open the package her parents had sent her for her seventeenth birthday. She had not seen hide nor hair of Rafferty since.

Two weeks into October was when the first trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled. It was a terrible day to be outside. The wind and snow seemed to grow fiercer with every step they took. They weren't even a hundred feet from the castle when Ron had confessed a desire to turn back.

"Blimey," he'd said, his scarf flying over his face. "It's awful out here. What d'you say we head back?"

Hermione's heart sunk. Granted, it was cold, but Rafferty was staying in Hogsmeade, and she was hoping to see him. She looked over at Harry whose cheeks were flushed from the cold. She could tell he was in agreement with Ron.

"Come on," Hermione urged, "It's not _that_ far of a walk. We could stop in at Zonko's Joke Shop." She knew this would appeal to both of the boys, especially Ron. "Then we can run by Honeydukes and then The Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer."

Ron grinned. "I wouldn't mind going to Zonko's." Harry agreed, and they trudged along through the snow.

When they reached the small village of Hogsmeade, they found that Zonko's Joke shop had been boarded up.

Ron moaned. "Oh, no."

Hermione heard Harry sigh, and Ron suggested, "Let's go to Honeydukes then." Harry and Hermione followed.

The moment they stepped inside Honeydukes they were enveloped by warmth and the enticing smells of countless sweets. Hermione made her way past a group of first years, their arms full of Skiving Snackboxes, Fizzing Whizbees, and Acid Pops, and wondered how long it would be before they'd be making a trip up to the Hospital Wing to see Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione picked up a misplaced Blood-flavored lollipop and made a disgusted face. She startled and about dropped the lollipop as a booming voice called out to Harry from across the shop.

Hermione turned around to see Professor Slughorn coming toward them, a box of Crystalized Pineapple in his hand. Hermione shoved the lollipop back where she found it as Professor Slughorn began to lightly scold Harry for missing his suppers and Harry made an excuse about Quidditch practice.  
The two of them haggled over it for several minutes before Slughorn left, having never once cast his gaze toward Ron. The door closed behind him, and a cool chill shot through the store. One of the first years closest to the door shivered and dropped his candies to the floor, blushing as his friends giggled and helped him pick them up.

Hermione turned to Harry and tried to convince him that Slughorn's dinner parties weren't as bad as he thought. Then she noticed Ron's sullen face, so she quickly changed the subject to the first piece of candy that she saw: a sugar quill, but Ron's mood didn't change.

After they had fully perused the shop and Hermione had purchased a box of Pumpkin Pasties to send to her parents (they had become fond of the small pies when Hermione had taken a box home in her third year), Harry suggested they go to the Three Broomsticks.

Once again they stepped out into the cold. Chills went down Hermione as they made their way down the street against the wind. She had been so busy looking up and down the street— hoping to catch sight of Rafferty— that she hadn't even noticed Harry and Ron having a conversation with Mundungus Fletcher until Mundungus was flung against the wall of the Three Broomsticks, and Harry's hand was pressed against his throat.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled as Harry pointed his wand at Mundungus.

It didn't take Hermione long to assess what the problem was: Mundungus had stolen something from Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.  
Hermione, despite her best efforts, couldn't convince Harry to let go of Mundungus. She was getting worried. She didn't think she had ever seen Harry this angry before.

Just when Hermione felt as if she would have to physically tear Harry away from Mundungus, Tonks showed up. She convinced Harry to let Mundungus, who Disapparated the moment he could, go.

As Harry and Ron trudged around the corner toward the door of the Three Broomsticks, Hermione hung back to ask Tonks something.

"Tonks, do you know Callum Rafferty?"

Tonks pulled her jacket around her tighter in an effort to fight off the cold. "Yeah, he's an Auror. We were in the same year together at Hogwarts."

"Is he trustworthy?" Hermione was sure she sounded ridiculous asking all these questions.

"Yeah, he is. He's a friend of mine actually. Why?"

"No reason... Just curious. I'd better get inside."

Hermione bid Tonks farewell and joined the boys inside the Three Broomsticks. "I'll get the Butterbeers," she told them as they went to find a table.

Harry was still fuming when Hermione returned to their booth with three Butterbeers. She slid in next to Harry and tried to calm him.

Eventually, after suggesting that he tell Dumbledore what had happened with Mundungus, Harry calmed down, and Hermione turned to Ron who was staring longingly toward the bar. Hermione asked him what he was staring at, but he quickly looked away and sheepishly said they he wasn't looking at anything.

Hermione made a snide remark regarding Madam Rosmerta, who Hermione knew was who he had been hoping to see. _I wish Ron would acquire good taste in women already,_ she thought to herself.  
Ron ignored her and merely drank his Butterbeer in silence.

Hermione glanced around, once more hoping to see Rafferty, but he wasn't there. She resided herself to the fact that she wasn't going to see him that day, and once Harry had finished his drink, she suggested they start back for Hogwarts. Both he and Ron agreed, so they followed Katie Bell and Leanne outdoors.

They weren't far before Hermione noticed that Katie and Leanna were getting into a heated discussion. Hermione gathered that it was over the package Katie was carrying.  
After several more minutes of arguing Leanna made a grab for the package. Katie resisted, and the package fell to the ground, opening in the process.

Katie instantly shot up into the air and began screaming. Hermione had never seen anything like it before, and it sent chills down her spine. Then, as suddenly as Katie had ascended, she fell to the ground with a _thud_. She squirmed and continued to scream in the snow, as if having a seizure.

Harry ran to get help and soon returned with Hagrid who carried Katie back to the castle. Harry picked up the package, careful to pick it up with his scarf and not touch it, and Hermione put an arm around Leanne to help her back to the castle.

Professor McGonagall met them all and led them to her office where Leanne explained what had happened. Apparently, Katie had returned from the loo, instructed to give the package to someone at Hogwarts, but she wouldn't tell Leanne who she was to deliver it to or who had given it to her. Leanne confessed her suspicion that Katie had been under the influence of the Imperius Curse.

Once she had finished recounting the string of events that had led up to where they were now, Professor McGonagall instructed Leanne to go see Madam Pomfrey for a calming draught.

After Leanna had left, Professor McGonagall questioned the three of them, and Hermione moaned internally when Harry accused Draco Malfoy of the day's events.

Hermione could tell that even after Professor McGonagall had explained to Harry that Draco Malfoy had been in detention with herself that day, Harry was still convinced that Draco Malfoy had been behind the cursing of Katie Bell.

After they left Professor McGonagall's office, both she and Ron attempted to dissuade Harry from his suspicions about Draco Malfoy, but to no avail.

* * *

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed chapter three. I know it was sparse on dialogue, but I promise there will be more dialogue forthwith. Chapter four is written and just needs some editing, so I should be uploading it soon. As always suggestions are always welcome. Thank you!


	4. The Grfyffindor-Slytherin Match

Author's Note: As always, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing!

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Gryffindor—Slytherin Match**

The Quidditch match against Slytherin was fast approaching, and the two weeks before it Ron had been testy, moody, grumpy, and a downright jerk with Hermione. He had been ever since the morning after the Gryffindor Quidditch team's first practice without Katie Bell. Hermione hadn't the faintest idea why.

Despite almost always being the recipient of Ron's anger and frustrations (so much so that she had really come to expect it), it still hurt. Hermione noticed that Ron wasn't speaking to Ginny either and wondered if he had decided to snob girls in general.

Over the two weeks leading up to the Gryffindor—Slytherin match, Hermione started spending less and less time with Harry and Ron since she didn't particularly like getting her head taken off.

Hermione knew Ron would be nervous about the first Quidditch game of the semester, so the morning of the Slytherin match Hermione entered the Great Hall in the hope that perhaps Ron's mood had changed. She cautiously approached him and Harry at the Gryffindor table and asked how they both were feeling. Ron didn't look at her, and Harry distractedly answered while trying to get Ron to drink his pumpkin juice.

Hermione's mood only worsened when Ron drank the Felix Felicis and Harry made the snide remark about the _Confundus_ charm she had cast during the tryouts. She had stormed farther down the Gryffindor table and sat down to eat her breakfast without another glance at either of them.  
Two second years across the table chatted nonstop about the upcoming game, and Hermione was glad when an owl delivered her morning edition of _The Daily Prophet_ and she could bury herself behind it.

After Hermione had finished eating, she slowly made her way to the Quidditch pitch. The stands were full of students wearing scarlet and gold or green and silver. She found a seat amongst the Gryffindors and watched Luna Lovegood off toward her right in her large lion hat. It roared loudly, inspiring a few fourth years sitting behind Luna to cheer and roar too, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little impressed at the ingenuity of Luna.

Hermione overheard two fifth year boys talking a few seats below her. "—Vaisey, the Slytherin Chaser, is out I heard. Took a nasty bludger to the head," the first boy stated. The other boy laughed.

"And Malfoy—I think he's their seeker—he's too sick to play."

"It certainly is Gryffindor's lucky day," the second boy smiled.

Hermione's anger returned. _How dare Harry and Ron—? But was what I did any better?_ She thought. _Of course. That was just tryouts— this is an actual match...But cheating is cheating..._

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the match began.

Hermione _had_ been planning on asking Ron to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her. She had felt bad for him; she knew it hurt him that Slughorn didn't think he was good enough to attend but that she and Harry were. Ron had always felt insignificant compared to Harry, the Boy Who Lived, and herself, who always did better academically than he did.  
But now... Ron was being such a complete idiot— she didn't really want to ask him. _All these years I've put up with his bad attitudes, and I'm sick of it._

Hermione's thoughts drifted back to her third year. Ron didn't speak to her for weeks because he had accused Crookshanks of killing Scabbers (who didn't turn out to be Scabbers at all) and didn't believe Hermione when she told him it wasn't true.  
Then when Scabbers finally turned up, proving Crookshanks innocent, Ron had never apologized.

In their fourth year Ron had turned to her as a last resort to go with to the Yule Ball, insulting her and calling her a liar in the process; to think that she was _so_ undesirable that she had to resort to lying about having a date.  
The night of the Yule Ball had been amazing. It had been one of the best nights of her life. That is until Ron blew up at her and reduced her to tears. He had never apologized for that either.

And now he was being a complete jerk, and she didn't even know why. Any romantic feelings Hermione had had for Ron had gradually receded after their fourth year at Hogwarts, but it still hurt when he acted this way. After all, he was one of her best friends.

"Anything the matter, Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned around to see Rafferty standing there. She grinned at the sight of him. "No, everything is fine."

Rafferty gestured to the empty seat next to her. "May I?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, and he gingerly sat down.

They sat there for a moment, not saying anything as they watched the game, before Rafferty said, "You're sure nothing's wrong? You didn't look exactly happy when I first walked up."

Hermione smiled. "No, I'm fine. I promise," she added at his look of disbelief.

"Alright." He smiled and continued to watch the game.

"Your friend—uh—Ronald is playing very well today."

Hermione looked down at her lap and mumbled, "Yes, he is..."

"I heard you were there when Katie Bell was cursed," Rafferty tentatively said, "That must've been pretty scary."

"Yes, it was. Harry said she's been taken to St. Mungo's.

Rafferty nodded and said something that she couldn't hear because of the sudden chorus of "Weasley is Our King" echoing through the stands.

Rafferty laughed. "Your friend Ronald seems to be a very popular boy."

"Isn't he though?" Hermione sarcastically replied, still upset with Ron.

Rafferty picked up on this and didn't bring Ron up again, even when Ron blocked the Quaffle in some impressive plays.

"That is one dedicated Gryffindor," Rafferty said after a few minutes, gesturing toward Luna. "She must really love her Quidditch."

"Who? Luna?" Hermione laughed. "She's not in Gryffindor. She's in Ravenclaw."

"But her hat—"

"Don't ask me to explain Luna. She's one of a kind."

Rafferty smiled. "I can see that."

"Harper of Slytherin sees the Snitch!" Zacharias Smith boomed over the megaphone. Hermione's eyes darted to Harry, speeding far behind Harper. _Oh, come on, Harry!_

Suddenly Harper fumbled the Snitch and shot right past it. Several Gryffindors laughed, and Harry flew up and caught the Snitch. Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and the Gryffindor stands erupted in applause and yelling, everyone jumping to their feet. Only Hermione and Rafferty remained seated.

They two of them smiled at each other, clapping. Hermione was suddenly struck by a fantastic idea. _If Ron's going to be such an idiot about everything... Do it now while you've got the nerve, Hermione..._

"Mr. Rafferty, there's a Christmas party that—"

Rafferty shook his head and leaned in closer to her. "What? I'm sorry. I can't hear you."

 _I wish everyone would stop screaming before I lose my nerve,_ she thought.

Hermione leaned in closer too and repeated, a little bit louder, "There's a Christmas party that one of my professors is throwing, and I was wondering if—" she hesitated for a moment before continuing "—if you would like to go with me?"

 _I hope he heard that, because I don't think I could say it again._

"Yes."

"What?" Hermione asked over the crowd, the stands chanting "Weasley is Our King" again.

Rafferty smiled and repeated himself, a little louder, "Yes. I would love to go to the Christmas party with you."

Hermione beamed and felt her cheeks flush, a stark contrast to the cool air.

Rafferty stood up and proffered his hand to help her up, and Hermione took it. They slowly followed the crowd of cheering Gryffindors filing out of the stands, Hermione completely forgetting Ron, Harry, and the vial of Felix Felicis as Rafferty held her gloved hand in his.

As they descended the stairs, students pushing past them on every side, they agreed to call one another by their first names. Hermione could see Luna's head, her lion hat still atop it, bobbing above the crowd down below, and Hermione smiled to herself.

Hermione's feet touched the damp grass, Callum's hand slipped from hers, and he smiled softly at her. "Well, Miss Gran— I mean, Hermione, I will see you soon."

Hermione watched him walk away and grinned to herself. _We're going to Slughorn's Christmas party together..._

She absentmindedly walked along, not really realizing where she was going. Then she remembered what had happened at breakfast that morning with Harry and Ron, and she marched off toward the Gryffindor Quidditch changing rooms. She grew more uneasy as she advanced, but she was determined to speak with Harry.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading chapter four! I hope you enjoyed it, and I should have the next chapter uploaded by the end of the week!

Mally1942, thank you for your suggestion! I'm probably not going to pair Ron with Lavender (I just really can't see them together long-term), but I'll keep Ron's options open and definitely consider an alternative. Thanks! :)


	5. The Snogging of Lavender Brown

_Author's Note: Once again, THANK YOU for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! Here's chapter five._

* * *

 _ **Chapter Five: The Snogging of Lavender Brown**_

Hermione was, of course, completely surprised when Harry revealed that he had _not_ put the Felix Felicis into Ron's pumpkin juice that morning.  
It wasn't that Hermione didn't think Ron was capable of playing splendidly— of course he was. It was just that she had been _positive_ Harry had slipped Felix Felicis into his drink. She didn't feel bad about making that assumption; after all, Harry had said that was what he wanted her to think. Following Harry's confession Ron became angry with Hermione and accused her of not believing in him before striding off with his broom.

Hermione had left the changing rooms and wandered the grounds, still irritated and hurt by Ron's continuing behavior toward her. Eventually she made her way to Gryffindor Tower in the hopes of talking to Ron. She had no idea what she would say, for she certainly wasn't going to say that she was wrong ( _because I'm not_ ), and she knew that he would have to apologize to her (something he had never done before) before she would even consider forgiving him.  
Nevertheless, she really hoped that he would want to be forgiven, that he would apologize. She missed spending time with her two best friends.

 _Perhaps Ron will be in a better mood now_ , she thought as she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

As the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, Hermione was instantly met with the overwhelmingly loud sound of laughter and cheering. Gryffindor was proudly celebrating their first Quidditch victory of the season. She managed to squeeze past a group of first years uncomfortably standing in front of the portrait door and staring in at the festivities, obviously too nervous to join in.

Hermione unexpectedly caught sight of Ron in the corner of the common room with Lavender Brown, snogging, their hands exploring one another. Hermione felt as if she was going to vomit.

 _How disgusting_ , she thought. There were hundreds of girls in this school— why did Ron have to go for someone as shallow as Lavender Brown?

And to flaunt it so crudely in front of everyone as they were doing now...

Hermione grimaced and turned around, hurrying past the group of first years still standing in the entrance. She wasn't going to stick around and watch _that_.  
She walked along the corridor and entered the first unlocked door she could find, closing it behind her. As she sat on the teacher's desk, she wondered what she ever saw in Ron.

Sure, he was a great friend ( _well, he is to Harry_ ), but he wasn't the type of person Hermione could see herself spending the rest of her life with. She knew he had some first rate qualities, but she wanted someone who respected her, who was kind to her.

Hermione didn't want someone who so crudely flaunted their relationship as Ron was doing with Lavender. She didn't want someone who she never felt she could wholly depend on, someone who was constantly blowing up at her for no reason at all and then never apologizing.

Her thoughts drifted back to Callum again, and she absentmindedly took out her wand and conjured a group of yellow birds that began to fly above her head.

Abruptly, the door swung open _—_ Harry was standing there. He silently closed the door behind himself.

Hermione gave him an absentminded "Hello" and an explanation for the birds who had begun to chirp. "Just practicing…"

Harry complimented her on how good they were, but she instead remarked what a great time Ron was having, and Harry pretended not to have noticed.

Hermione smiled. _Sweet Harry..._ She decided she needed to be open with him since he looked to be getting the wrong idea about her feelings toward Ron.

"It's alright, Harry. I don't have any feelings for Ron, not anymore," she told him.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and she knew he didn't believe her.

"Really, I don't. Not since after fourth-year—"

The door burst open, and Ron and Lavender stumbled in, their arms loosely around each other, laughing. Lavender let out a high pitched giggle at the sight of Harry and Hermione and then backed out of the room, calling for Ron to follow.  
Ron remained standing there clumsily, not even looking at Hermione.

Before Hermione knew what she was doing, she was walking toward Ron, her wand pointed at him. All of her repressed anger from the last few weeks suddenly spilled loose.

 _How dare he treat me as if I was dirt? I haven't done_ _ **anything**_ _wrong!_

" _Oppugno_!" She said clearly. The yellow birds she had conjured only minutes before flew toward Ron and began attacking him. He attempted to fight them off, letting out a shriek in the process.

Hermione stormed past him out of the room and down the hallway.

* * *

 _Well, that was chapter five. I know it was short, and I apologize for that. The next chapter should be longer. Thank you for reading!  
_


	6. Hermione's Nights in the Library

_Author's Note: Since chapter five was so short, I decided I should go ahead and post chapter six. THANK YOU SO MUCH for your support!_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Six: Hermione's Nights in the Library**_

The evening of Slughorn's Christmas Party was fast approaching, and Ron and Hermione still weren't on friendly terms. Hermione spent none of her free time with Harry and Ron anymore, nor did she sit with them in class or at meals. Hermione spent most of her evenings in the library, and Harry would sometimes join her so that he could spend some time with her. Ron was too busy with Lavender Brown to notice Harry half the time anyway.

But on most nights it was Callum that joined her in the library, not Harry. He would often come by on his nightly rounds around the castle, knowing she'd most likely be there, and would stop for a few minutes to chat.

One night in particular, Callum slid in across the table from Hermione as she was studying in the library for her History of Magic test. "Studying again at this late hour?" he asked.

Hermione grinned and looked up from her homework.

"Well, what is it this time?"

"History of Magic," she answered.

"Ah. Hogwarts' most boring subject... Or perhaps only made its most boring subject because of its most boring teacher?"

Hermione laughed. "Probably a little of both."

Callum laughed too and then added more quietly, after Madam Pince had shot him an intimidating glare, "May I?"

Hermione passed her homework across the table to him, and he looked it over. "The Goblin Rebellions..."

"I swear I know them all by heart. Professor Binns had us write an essay on them every week in our fourth-year."

Callum smiled and handed her homework back over to her. "Have you ever fallen asleep in one of his classes?"

"No, of course not. I've never fallen asleep in class before. But I'll admit he _does_ make it difficult to keep one's focus… Have you?"

Callum sheepishly smiled. "I may have once...or twice...or three times..."

Hermione laughed, but before she could reply, Madam Pince was ushering them out. "Come on, come on, Miss Granger. You should be getting back to your dormitory."

Callum grabbed Hermione's books for her, and they walked out into the hallway together. Callum glanced back over his shoulder at Madam Pince scolding a terrified first-year over a torn page. "You know, I'm pretty sure I saw Madam Pince and Filch snogging last week."

Hermione roared with laughter. "You can't be serious!"

"No, I am," he insisted, grinning.

"Oh, come on!"

"Alright, so maybe they weren't _snogging_ exactly, but I'd bet you a Galleon they wanted to be snogging."

Hermione laughed again, and Callum escorted her back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He handed Hermione her books back. "I should get back to patrolling the castle. I'll see you around."

Hermione smiled and watched him walk away. "Bye."

* * *

The day before Slughorn's Christmas Party, they had Transfiguration class. Professor McGonagall had given them directions on how to change the color of their eyebrows, and Hermione couldn't help but let out a laugh at Ron's failed attempt: a very bushy handlebar mustache. She felt a twinge or regret as she laughed, _but he deserves it_ , she thought to herself.

Ron returned her laughter with an imitation of her raising her hand every time Professor McGonagall asked a question. Lavender and Parvati joined in the laughter too, and Hermione felt her eyes burning as she turned back to the task of changing the color of her eyebrows.

The moment class had ended, Hermione hastily left the classroom, forgetting some of her things in her haste. She flew through the nearest door and down the stairs to the floor below. She pushed open the door to the girl's bathroom and gave a little jump— Luna Lovegood, looking as dreamy as ever, was standing at the sink washing her hands.

Luna was, of course, immediately concerned, and Hermione was forced to give her an explanation for why she was crying. As they walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Luna gently patted Hermione on the back. Harry was standing outside the door. "You left your stuff," he said lamely.

"Oh. Thanks, Harry." Hermione took her things and turned to walk away, wiping her eyes as she did so. She said a rushed goodbye to the both of them and hurried down the corridor.

As Hermione sped along, she heard someone behind her call her name. She sighed. _Please, Harry. I don't want to talk about it._

She spun around, ready to tell Harry she was fine, but was instead surprised to see Callum standing there. She hadn't seen him since two days before when he had offered to help her with some of her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

It wasn't that she especially _needed_ help, but she enjoyed spending time with him, and she _had_ only gotten an 'Acceptable' in that particular class the previous year. Callum was an Auror; he knew what he was doing, so why not?

Callum's smile disappeared when he noticed her red eyes. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, embarrassed that she had run into him when she was in such a state.

He frowned. "Hermione—"

"No, I'm fine— _really_." Hermione could tell he wasn't convinced, but she was relieved that he decided not to push it.

"Well, then... I was just wondering about tomorrow? The Christmas Party?" he vaguely asked, his mind evidently still focused on the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, um...it starts around eight o'clock."

They made arrangements to meet at Gryffindor Tower around seven forty-five the following night.

As Hermione walked away, she felt a lot better. She was going to Slughorn's Christmas Party with Callum Rafferty. She smiled to herself, completely forgetting Ron's imitation of her for the moment.

* * *

That evening at dinner Hermione sat quietly down the table from Harry and Ron, reading and taking her time as she ate her stew. She felt Ron glance at her occasionally, but she didn't return his stare. This time, if he wanted forgiveness, he would have to ask for it.

 _There's a first time for everything,_ she thought to herself.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Parvati sitting across from Harry, waving at her.

 _She must feel bad for laughing at me in class._

"Hello, Parvati," Hermione smiled back. Not sure what else to say, she simply asked the first thing that came to mind: if she was going to Slughorn's Christmas Party. Parvati explained that she would love to go but hadn't been invited.

"Are you going?" she asked Hermione.

"Yes, I am," Hermione smiled. She could tell Parvati was busting at the seams to ask who she was going with. "Well, I suppose I should go. I'll see you later."

Hermione swung her bag over her shoulder and set off for the library.

* * *

 _Chapter six: complete. I hope you enjoyed reading that. I especially enjoyed writing the part about Madam Pince and Filch. As always, suggestions and constructive criticisms are welcome! Thank you!_


	7. Slughorn's Christmas Party

_**Chapter Seven: Slughorn's Christmas Party**_

As Hermione dressed for Slughorn's Christmas Party, she experienced several flutterings in her stomach that couldn't be compared to anything but the flutterings she had experienced the night of the Yule Ball. _But Ron won't be ruining this night,_ she assured herself with a smile.

Hermione took one last sweeping glance in the mirror and ran her hand across her dress.

 _My hair isn't quite the way I would like it to be, but it never is. Oh, well._

She hurried down the stairs leading from the Girl's Dormitory to the common room and heard an obnoxious giggle accompanied by a familiar voice from the corner of the room but didn't bother to look over. She didn't plan on thinking about Ron or Lavender this eveningーjust Callum.

Hermione smiled to herself as she stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady. Callum was casually standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets. He stood straight and smiled when he spotted her.  
Hermione took a deep breath and walked toward him, her heels clicking lightly against the stone floors.

"You look..." He seemed to be at a loss for words. "ーamazing."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled. He seemed to be nervous too, and that made her feel a little more at ease.

"Shall we?" Callum asked, proffering his arm.

Hermione nodded, taking his arm as they started down the corridor.

Callum made conversation as they walked. "I heard a few students talking earlier today. Is there really going to be a vampire there tonight?"

Hermione remembered that Luna had mentioned a vampire that day as they passed each other in the halls, but you couldn't always trust Luna's information. "I'm not for sure. I've never met a vampire. Have you?"

Callum nodded. "A bit temperamental in my experience. But I suppose in my line of work I've only run into the nasty ones."

As they rounded a corner of the seventh floor, he asked, "Any of your friends coming to the party?"

"Harry is," Hermione answered.

Callum opened the door to Slughorn's office and followed Hermione, who was taking in their surroundings, in.

Professor Slughorn had done an excellent job of decorating his office for the occasion. It was beautiful and dreamyー a stark contrast to the dark and gloomy castle halls.

Hermione felt a surge of anger as she watched several house elves serving the guests, but her train of thought was broken by a booming voice. "Miss Granger! I'm so glad you could come!"

"Hello, professor," she replied. "Thank you for the invitation."

Slughorn's gaze rested on Callum. "Oh, professor, this is Callum Rafferty," Hermione introduced, "He's one of the Aurors stationed here to guard the castle."

Callum extended his hand and smiled. "Yes, we met several years ago. It's nice to see you again."

Slughorn smiled back, but it was obvious he didn't recall the meeting or Callum. "Yes... Well, I should greet my other guests." He hurried away.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't worry about it. Slughorn only remembers the 'important' peopleー the elite, or however he would put it."

"Did you just call me unimportant?" Callum asked, smiling playfully.

"No, of course not! I just meant thatー" She stopped when she saw him smiling and smiled too. "Oh, never mind..." Hermione absentmindedly slipped her arm through his, and they walked to the other side of the room.

Hermione caught sight of another elf, struggling to get through the crowd of people. He was carrying a large tray filled with round chocolates of some sort.

"What's the matter?" asked Callum, noticing the sudden change in her visage.

Hermione jumped at the chance to discuss her feelings on the matter of elves' rights, and no one had ever listened as sincerely and intently as Callum did (except, of course, for her parents) to her feelings and beliefs on the matter.  
She had just finished explaining S.P.E.W. to him when a terrible idea occurred to her.

"You don't uh...have house elves do youー" She was cut off by Harry.

"Hello, Harry," she smiled half-heartedly, disappointed that her discussion with Callum about S.P.E.W. had been cut short. "Hi, Luna."

Harry was watching Callum with interest, and Hermione remembered that they had never met. "Harry, this is Callum Rafferty. He's one of the Aurors that's been stationed here at Hogwarts."

"Hello, Harry." Callum extended his hand.

"Er, hi," Harry awkwardly replied, shaking it.

Hermione turned to Luna who was looking especially dreamy that night. "And this is Luna Lovegood."

Callum smiled and shook her hand. "It's a pleasure, Miss Lovegood. Would you by any chance be related to Xeniphillius Lovegood, editor of _The Quibbler_?"

Luna's eyes lit up, and she happily replied, "Yes, he is my father."

Hermione didn't hear what was said next because Harry pulled her aside and asked, "You came with an _Auror_?"

"Yes. He's been helping me with my Defsense Against the Dark Arts homework. What's wrong with my coming with him?"

"Nothing, I guess. It's just...unexpected. When did you meet him?"

"A couple months ago."

"Since when did _you_ need help with homework?"

"I'm not above admitting that I need assistance from time to time. After all, I only got an Acceptable in Defense Against the Dark Arts last year."

Hermione knew that Harry had still secretly hoped that she would come with Ron to Slughorn's party. He missed their threesome, and, admittedly, Hermione missed it too, but she knew that she hadn't done anything wrong. For once Ron would have to come to _her_ if he wanted to be friends again.

"You're not going to tell Ron about what you did at the Quidditch tryouts are you?"

"No, of course not," Hermione replied, indignant.

"Good. Because that would just ruin everything, and we could lose the next matchー"

"Quidditch," Hermione spat, suddenly annoyed with Harry. "Is that all you care about?"

Hermione turned on her heel and returned to Callum's side. He was discussing _The Quibbler_ with Luna, and they both appeared to be enjoying themselves. Harry, looking confused and startled, followed Hermione over and stood next to Luna.

"Hello, Granger." Hermione turned around and groaned internally when she law McLaggen standing there. She didn't like the expression on his face. She never liked the expression on his face. Callum, Harry, and Luna all turned to look at McLaggen too.

"Er, hi, McLaggen."

Before McLaggen could say another word, Callum interjected. "I'm thirsty." Callum took Hermione by the arm. "Excuse us." He gave McLaggen a curt smile and walked Hermione across the room to the beverage table. Harry and Luna followed them over, and the four of them scooped up goblets of punch.

Hermione smiled to herself as Harry realized all too late who was standing right next to him. He and Luna were caught up in a conversation with Professor Trelawney, and Harry looked miserable.

Hermione grabbed Callum's hand and pulled him off toward a corner of the room before they, too, could be pulled into the conversation.

Callum smiled. "I'm guessing you're not a big fan of Sybill Trelawny?"

"Not in the least. I don't put much stock into predictions." _Well, except for the prophecy about Harry..._ Hermione decided to change the subject.

"Thanks for saving me from McLaggen back there," Hermione smiled. "I don't know why he just came up to me like that."

"You don't?" Callum asked, smiling playfully.

Hermione felt hot all of a sudden and became aware of the fact that she was still holding Callum's hand in hers. She immediately released it, looked away, and took a log sip of her punch.

Hermione around at the other guests. She didn't see Harry. There was Luna still talking to Professor Trelawney, but no sign of Harry.

The rest of her time at the party with Callum passed pleasantly. They didn't mingle with the other guests much, but Hermione preferred it that way.

As they were leaving the party later that night, Hermione caught sight of Harry. He looked excited about something. She made a mental note to ask him where he had disappeared to later. She and Callum meandered back toward the Gryffindor Common Room, neither of them in any particular hurry.

"You appeared to be having an interesting conversation with Luna earlier," Hermione commented as they walked along.

Callum smiled. "Yes, I enjoyed talking to her. She seems to be a very kind and intelligent person. Was she the one with the lion hat?"

"Yeah. Most people call her 'Loony Lovegood.'"

Callum frowned. "That's too bad. I think she's extraordinary."

Hermione smiled. She was glad he thought so.

As they walked along, Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had been so happy. "Oh, I never answered your question from earlier," Callum said as the portrait of the Fat Lacy came into sight.

"Question?" Hermione repeated.

"About whether or not I have house elves."

Hermione's stomach started tying itself in knots. She had forgotten about that. Her mind began to repeat a chorus of _Please say you don't, please say you don't, please say you don't_ over and over again.

"I have never had, nor do I ever plan to have a house elf. You've firmly convinced me of that decision."

Hermione's delight was evident by the large grin that spread across her face. "I'm glad to hear that."

"In fact, I would like one of those Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare badges if you have any kicking around. I think it's a good cause, and I'd like to support it."

Hermione's grin only grew. She couldn't remember anyone ever actually _remembering_ the name of her society _and wanting_ a badge. "Yes, of course!" she exclaimed excitedly. She suddenly felt like kissing him.

And suddenly... _she did_.

On the cheek of course. She didn't _completely_ lose her senses. They took several more steps toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, neither of them feeling a tad bit awkward holding each other's hands.

"Hermione," Callum said, "I had a wonderful time tonight."

"So did I," Hermione replied thoughtfully.

"I probably won't see you tomorrow before you leave, so have a good Christmas."

"Where will you go for the holidays?"

Hermione thought she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

"I have some family in Falmouth I always go see." He leaned down and tenderly kissed her cheek, sending chills down her spine.

"Goodnight, Hermione, and Happy Christmas."

As he walked away, Hermione told the Fat Lady the password, and the portrait door swung open.

"Don't forget to have my S.P.E.W. badge when you get back from holiday!" Callum called.

Hermione smiled and called back, "I won't!"


	8. Christmas Holiday

_Author's Note: Hello! I'm sorry that I'm late updating. Time seems to just slip by. Anyway, here's chapter eight. I hope you enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eight: Christmas Holiday**_

It was Christmas morning at the Granger home, and Hermione sat on the floor of their living room, torn wrapping paper strung all around her. She and her parents had just finished opening all the presents, and now her parents were in the kitchen preparing tea.  
As usual, the majority of Hermione's Christmas presents had been books. She had gotten a lovely blue sweater and a beautiful silver bracelet, but these paled in comparison to the numerous books she had received.

"I'm going to take my books up to my bedroom!" Hermione called in to her parents.

"Alright, darling," her mother called back. "But don't be long. The tea's almost ready."

Hermione stood up and began to pile her books into her arms. _I am seventeen_ , she thought to herself, the idea just occurring to her. _I can use magic outside of Hogwarts now. I could just carry all these books up to my room by magic..._

It was a strange sensation, knowing she could use magic anytime she wanted, anywhere she wanted.  
She considered setting her books back down and pulling her wand out but decided against it. Her parents, though always supportive of her and her abilities, would probably not be pleased if they came into the room to find books floating up the stairs.

Hermione stacked the rest of the books in her arms, the last one held in place by her chin, and carefully ascended the stairs and to her bedroom. She let the books slide out of her arms and onto her desk. She sorted through them and made two separate piles: the books she would take back to Hogwarts with her, and the books she would leave here.

Hermione looked around her room to try and decide where to put the books she was leaving there. Merlin knew her bookshelves were already stuffed. She sighed. _Looks like I'm going to need another book shelf._

She picked up the books she was taking to Hogwarts and took them over to her trunk. She had just begun to situate them when she caught sight of movement in her window.  
There sat an owl, anxious to get in out of the cold, with a package in its mouth.

Hermione rushed to the window and in her excitement struggled with the latch. Who could it have been from? She had already received a present from Harry. Perhaps Ron? No, that wasn't likely.  
As the latch swung open and the owl hopped onto the inside ledge, a new idea occurred to her: _It could be from Callum_.

Hermione took the package from the little tawny owl and gave it a treat from a bowl she kept on hand for just such occasions. She sat down on the edge of her bed, the little owl hopping along the window ledge and relishing the warmth of Hermione's bedroom.

Hermione opened the package and took the note from it. In neat cursive writing it read,

 _Dear Hermione,  
I hope you're having a good holiday so far. I had some difficulty acquiring this, but I think you will enjoy it. I hope your parents are doing well.  
Happy Christmas,  
Callum _

Hermione smiled and read it over two more times before setting the note down and throwing aside the remaining wrapping. She couldn't help but gasp at the beautifully bound book that she now held in her hands.

"I looked everywhere for this—how he could have—?" She grinned and held the book close to her. She had searched high and low for this book for over a year. It had been out of print for years, but it was universally acknowledged as the best book on Ancient Runes available to the wizarding world.

She stood up and spun around with it once, still pressed against her. There was no chance of her failing Ancient Runes now—not that there had ever been much of a chance of that anyway. She couldn't wait to start pouring over it.

"Hermione, tea is ready!" she heard her mother call up to her.

"Er—coming, Mum!"

Reading would have to wait. Nevertheless, she couldn't make herself let go of it, so she decided to carry it down with her to show her parents. She let the little tawny owl back outside, and as she watched him fly away, a terrible realization hit her.

 _I didn't get him anything..._

"I can't believe it!" she exclaimed. "It never even crossed my mind. Of course, I didn't expect him to get me anything, so I didn't—oh..." She moaned and sat back down.

"Hermione, are you coming down?" her father called.

Hermione made her way down the stairs and sat down on the sofa across from her parents. A cup of piping hot tea already sat before her on the coffee table.

"What's wrong, dear?" her mother asked. "Not enough room for your books?"

"Hm? Oh—no, I don't have enough room. But that isn't what's bothering me." Hermione handed her mother the Ancient Runes book.

"Isn't this the book you wanted so badly? Where did you get it?"

"It just arrived in the mail. A very dear... _friend_...sent it."

Hermione's father, looking amused as he held the book up to reveal the inscription inside, added, "A very special _boy_ friend."

Hermione suddenly felt extremely embarrassed. "Well, yes..."

"Is this the same Callum you wrote to us about? The one who was going to start helping you with some of your homework?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we—um… went to Professor Slughorn's Christmas Party together."

"Are you two—going together?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione immediately responded. "I would tell you if I ever started dating someone. However, I'm very fond of him, and now I feel guilty because I didn't get him anything for Christmas."

"There's still time for that," her mother assured her. "It'll just have to be a little late—that's all."

"Why don't you give him one of um... _our_ kind of books? I doubt he has read many of _our_ books."

Hermione smiled, pleased with the idea. She took the Ancient Runes book back from her parents, admired the beautiful cover once more, and then took a sip of her tea, considering what book to get him.


	9. A Beloved Bookstore

_**Chapter Nine: A Beloved Bookstore**_

That night, when Hermione was situated comfortably under the covers of her bed, she began pouring over the Ancient Runes book, smiling every few minutes to herself.  
Already several chapters in, she stopped reading and once again admired the cover and pages of the beautifully bound book. She flipped back to the last page where, for the first time, she noticed a name written in small, precise letters at the top of the back cover.

 _Leona Broadmoor_

Hermione stared at the name for a long time, wondering who Leona Broadmoor could be. Leona _Broadmoor... Leona Broadmoor..._ It didn't ring a bell. She set the book aside and slid farther down under her covers before turning the lamp off.

The following morning Hermione's parents drove her to her favorite Muggle bookstore. It had snowed the night before, and the ground was covered in a beautiful blanket of white. Halfway to the store it had begun snowing again, and Hermione was happy to lean back in the back seat of her parent's car and watch it fall. She never got tired of watching snow, and she didn't think she ever would.

Muggle children were everywhere outside playing— building snowmen, having snowball fights, sledding, making snow angels. Hermione could fondly remember the thrill of playing in the snow as a child. Her life certainly had changed since then. Now she could make snow appear from the tip of her wand.

As her father parked the car in front of the book store, Hermione was still undecided on what book to buy Callum. What genre would he prefer? Adventure? Mystery? Science-fiction? Non-fiction? There were simply too many choices.

Hermione pushed the door to the store open and walked inside, the familiar smell of the old place hitting her and bringing a smile to her lips. She had spent so many happy hours here as a child. Whenever the other children had been unkind to her at school, she was always able to find refuge and comfort here.

"Hello, Hermione," Leon, the shopkeeper, greeted her. He was a kindly old man with rectangular spectacles and a crop of messy white hair that didn't look as if it had seen a comb in years. He had always let her spend as much time as she liked in the store, reading whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, and he was probably the only person who knew the store better than she did. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"No, sir," Hermione smiled, "I've been away at school."

He took her hand in his old, wrinkled one and gave it a pat. "I still haven't forgiven your parents for sending you away. Well, go ahead. You know your way around."

"Thank you, sir."

Hermione smiled and began scanning the old, familiar isles.

Hermione searched for close to two hours, picking herself a few books up along the way, but she still could not decide on a book to buy Callum. She tucked a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear and sighed. _I've just got to make a decision._

Finally, and after much debate with herself, she decided on a collection of poems by Edgar Allen Poe. Hermione wasn't sure if Callum would like it, but her parents had been waiting for her long enough, and she needed to make a decision.

"Did you pick something out, dear?" Hermione's mother asked as Hermione joined them by the shop's door where they had been waiting for nearly an hour and a half.

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry I kept you both waiting so long."

"It's alright."

Hermione's father opened the shop door and followed his wife and daughter out to the car. Settled comfortably once again in the back seat, Hermione pulled the book of poems by Poe out of her bag and smiled down at it. She couldn't wait to see Callum again.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Hello! I am SO sorry that it's been so long since I've uploaded a chapter. I apologize. Thank you all for all your support and patience. This chapter was short and, if I'm being honest, a little boring, so I'm going to go ahead and upload the next chapter as well!  
_


	10. SPEW

_**Chapter Ten: S.P.E.W.**_

Hermione hurried down the hallway toward Harry, Ginny, and Ron standing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, the three of them covered with dirt. Hermione had arrived via the Floo Network herself only hours ago.

One Hermione reached them, she greeted Harry and Ginny and asked them how their holiday had been. Ron started to answer the question she hadn't even put to him, but she cut him off. "I have something for you," she told Harry before admitting the four of them into the common room using the new password, _Abstinence._

A chorus of "Won-Won" was heard the minute they entered. As Ginny left to meet Dean and Ron was pulled forcibly away by Lavender, Hermione was left alone with Harry. He didn't even wait a minute before he began telling her about what he had overheard between Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape at Slughorn's Christmas Party before the Christmas holiday.

Hermione still didn't completely buy into Harry's theory that Snape was in on it, and they bickered quietly for a minute about it before ending the discussion, knowing they weren't going to see eye to eye on the matter.

Hermione gave Harry the note Dumbledore had instructed her to give him, and then she went to bed.

The next morning held an exciting surprise: Apparition Lessons. The first class was scheduled for that Saturday, so she signed up.

In between classes Hermione searched for Callum but never caught sight of him. She hadn't been able to find him the previous day either, and it wasn't until her last class of the day that she found him— or rather that he found her.

She was sitting at a table in the library reading the Ancient Runes book Callum had given her for Christmas when she saw someone walking toward her out of the corner of her eye. When she saw who it was, she jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around him, beaming. "Callum!"

After the initial shock of Hermione's enthusiastic greeting, Callum smiled and hugged her back.

Hermione ignored the glare Madam Pince shot her way and sat down across from Callum at the table. "Thank you _so_ much for the Ancient Runes book. I can't tell you how excited I was when it arrived. I've been looking for it for over a year now! How did you find it?"

Callum smiled. "Well, I remembered you mentioning it a few weeks ago. I thought it sounded familiar but couldn't place where I had seen it. Then I remembered that my parents owned a copy that they hardly ever used, so... _voila._ "

"Your parents didn't mind you taking it then?" Hermione asked.

"No, they don't mind... They're dead."

Hermione felt the sting of her words, and she knew all the color had drained from her face. Instinctively, and without a second thought, she reached out and put her hand on his. "Callum, I'm sorry. I... I had no idea."

"I know you didn't. You've nothing to apologize for."

Hermione flipped to the back cover of the Ancient Runes book. "And Leona Broadmoor?"

"My mother's maiden name. I didn't know that was in there. Here, I'll remove it." He whipped his wand out.

Hermione's hand shot to his wand and lowered his wand. "No, leave it."

"You're sure? It would only take a second—"

"I'm positive."

Callum smiled softly with something akin to admiration in his eyes.

Hermione smiled back and pulled her hand back to herself. As Callum stuffed his wand back beneath his robes, something occurred to Hermione. "Where did you go for the holidays then?"

"I stayed here."

"But you told me—"

"I didn't lie," he assured her, smiling, "My aunt lives in Falmouth. I visited her for a few hours on Christmas day and swung by my parent's old house on the way back to Hogwarts. It took me forever to find that Ancient Runes book."

Hermione frowned. "You should have told me. I would have stayed here." She could tell that this statement surprised Callum but perhaps delighted him more than it did surprise him.

"That would've been silly. You needed to spend Christmas with your parents, not kicking about an old castle."

Hermione decided not to push it. "Well, I got you something too," she happily informed him, pulling a package from her bag.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he smiled.

"No, but I wanted to. Here." She pushed the package across the table to him, and he gingerly took it and shed the wrappings.

"It's a Muggle book. You haven't read it have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"I thought not. I hope you like it. I mean— I like his poems— so I thought maybe you would too—"

"It looks great. I'm sure I'll love it. Thank you."

Hermione grinned. "Do you really like it?"

He grinned back at her. "I really do."

"Oh! I have something else for you. I almost forgot." Hermione pulled a round badge from her bag and handed it to him.

 _ **Society for the Promotion  
S.P.E.W.  
of Elvish Welfare **_

Callum grinned and pinned it onto the front of his robes. "I'm glad you didn't forget."


	11. Trophy Room Lessons

_**Chapter Eleven: Trophy Room Lessons**_

The following day Harry informed Hermione about what had happened in his lesson with Dumbledore, what Dumbledore wanted him to do. Hermione, however, wasn't sure how easy it would be for Harry to convince Slughorn to reveal his actual memory. If Slughorn went so far as to tamper with it, there was obviously something he desperately wanted to hide.

Harry told Hermione that Ron had suggested he stay after potions that afternoon and speak with Slughorn about it. Hermione snapped back with a snide comment about how that _had_ to work if "Won-Won" suggested it, and Harry once again tried to get her to make up with Ron— as if it was up to _her_ to take the first steps toward a reconciliation.

"I'm _sick_ of you always taking Ron's side, Harry! I haven't done anything wrong. He's the one who's started all of this. If he wants to be friends again, he can come apologize to _me_. Ron's being a foul git, and if you can't see that, I'm sorry!"

Hermione stormed off as fast as her legs would carry her through the ankle deep snow and left Harry, stunned and speechless, alone in the cold. She hurried into the castle and toward the staircases, making her way to the Trophy Room where she had arranged to meet Callum to work on her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework before her next class. She climbed the staircases, the cold finally wearing off, and she reached the Trophy Room, on the third floor that day.

Callum was standing at the far end of the room, staring up at the list of Head Boys and Head Girls. He turned around and smiled warmly at Hermione when he heard her enter. "Hello."

"Hello." Hermione slipped her bag off over her head, pulling her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework out before propping her bag up against the stone wall.

"How's your morning been?"

Hermione shrugged. "Alright." Before he could question her further she added, "Let's get started. I don't want to be late for my next class."

Callum pulled his wand from his robes and conjured two arm chairs in the middle of the room. Hermione, impressed, sat down in one of them.

"So, what do we have today?" He returned his wand to his pocket and sat down in the second chair.

"An essay on the Imperius Curse. Here's mine so far." She handed him her essay, already several pages thick. "Mind reading it and telling me what you think?"

Callum took it, and after shooting her an amused glance because of the length, began to read it. Hermione watched him for a minute and then stood and meandered around the room, stopping to look at Tom Riddle's Services to the School Award the longest.

"Being in this school brings back so many old memories," Callum commented, not looking up and continuing to read Hermione's essay. "This room for example... fourth-year, detention... A third year and I had to clean all of these trophies by hand, no magic."

Hermione grinned. "Ron got that detention too, but with Filch in his second year. A slug-vomiting spell backfired on him though, and he threw up slugs all over this one trophy."

Callum laughed. "Not anyone important I hope."

Hermione cleared her throat, and she couldn't help but miss Ron a little at that moment. "Tom Riddle's actually..."

Callum read the rest of her essay in silence, looking up at her when he had finished. "Well, what do you think?" Hermione asked.

He smiled at her. "Are you sure you actually need my help with homework? Because it doesn't seem like you do."

Hermione smiled too and sat back down. "I had my doubts about it."

He handed her the essay back. "Well, you shouldn't. It's great."

Hermione fingered it. "I can't imagine what it must feel like to cast an Unforgivable Curse."

"I hope you never do."

Before she could stop herself, Hermione asked, "Have you? Ever cast an Unforgivable Curse I mean?"

Callum didn't look at her. "I have."

Hermione had enough good sense to not ask why or when even though she desperately wanted to. She decided to change the subject. "We're learning non-verbal spells in class... Maybe you could help me with that?"

Callum looked back up and gave her a weak smile. "From what I've seen, you don't need help with non-verbal spells."

Hermione thought back to the Quidditch tryouts and shifted in her seat, turning the brightest shade of red. "Yes...well...alright..." She stood up and walked over to her bag, stuffing her essay back in it and then turning back to face Callum, still flustered. "I guess I should get going then to my next class."

Callum stood up, and the two arm chairs vanished. "I'll walk you out."

Hermione swung her bag back over her shoulder, and the two of them made their way down the Armoury.

"So what's it like having Snape as your Dark Arts teacher?"

"It's...strange. I'm so used to him teaching potions. But he's teaching us practical stuff, what we need to know, not like last year with Umbridge. He really knows his stuff."

"Well, he should. I think he's wanted that job almost as long as Dumbledore's been alive."

They both laughed.

* * *

Hermione wasn't any less angry with Harry by the time potions class rolled around that afternoon; in fact, it only made her angrier with him.

 _How dare he use that stupid book again?_ she thought as she rushed from the potions class later that afternoon. _I work and study hard to achieve the grades I get, and he just cheats his way through with that horrible, old book._

And so Hermione didn't feel the least bit sorry for Harry when he later recounted his poor attempt to extract information from Slughorn.


	12. Bezoar

_**Chapter Twelve: Bezoar**_

The next few days brought no new info about Horcruxes. In vain Hermione searched the library for any information about it.

Sharing a table in potions class with Harry and Ron was hard, not to mention irritating. Between Ron being Ron and Harry cheating his way through the class, it was hard being in such close proximity to the both of them, even for one class period. One day she had enough and moved her cauldron over closer to Ernie to be away from the both of them.

When Slughorn announced that each student was to take a vial of poison from his desk and create an antidote for the poison, Hermione's heart soared. Harry couldn't cheat his way through this assignment. She was able to retrieve her poison, pour it into her cauldron, and kindle a fire beneath it before the others even returned to their tables.

Both Harry and Ron were peering over Harry's _Advanced Potion-Making_ , hoping the Prince had left some tip or gem of wisdom to help them out. She could tell from their disappointed faces there was nothing there to help them. She waved her wand over her cauldron, and thanks to her insistence that Callum help her, Hermione was now so good at nonverbal spells that Harry and Ron were unable to copy the spell she was casting over her cauldron.

Slughorn came around the room and peered into Harry's cauldron excitedly at one point but had yanked his head away, coughing and gagging. Even from her spot by Ernie Hermione could smell the foul odor of rotten eggs protruding from Harry's cauldron.

She smirked and began to separate her poison ingredients into ten phials. When Slughorn declared that their time was up, Hermione tried to cram some more ingredients in before Slughorn came to examine her work. No one else had finished in time either. Harry had stalked off to a cupboard and was rummaging through it, and Ron had long given up even attempting to finish.

When Harry had held out that bezoar in his hand, and Slughorn had applauded Harry— as usual— Hermione felt as if she would throw up. She had mixed fifty-two ingredients, she was sweaty, her face was dirty, and her hair was an even frizzier mess than usual. She had even lost a clump of her own hair in her boiling cauldron.

But what had Harry done? Harry had just waltzed over to the cupboard and grabbed a bezoar. The _nerve_. Cheating _again_. Hermione was so livid she couldn't see straight. As soon as Slughorn had dismissed them, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the room.

Hermione wasn't the least bit understanding when Harry later told her of his once again horrible attempt at retrieving Slughorn's memory, and she was pleased when Harry left her alone for the next several days.

"I passed your friend Harry earlier today," Callum remarked as they walked along a corridor one afternoon.

Hermione shifted her book bag on her shoulder but didn't reply. "He didn't look too happy."

"Oh?" Hermione imagined he didn't. He'd been skulking about the castle for days, no doubt planning his next line of attack on Slughorn.

Callum picked up on her tone and decided to lighten the mood. "Yeah. He looked rather like that Sanguini fellow we met at the party. The vampire, you know?"

Hermione laughed. "I'll bet he did."

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter was so short, but since I posted a longer chapter earlier this week, I figured it would be okay. Anyway, the next chapter will be longer. :)_


	13. Apparition

_**Chapter Thirteen: Apparition**_

One afternoon, after searching for nearly an hour in the library for information pertaining to Horcruxes, Hermione gave up and started for the Trophy Room to meet Callum. The two of them had been meeting regularly every day since the holiday. He was to help her with her Defense Against the Dark Arts studies, but more often than not they would end up talking or strolling the castle and grounds together instead.

Hermione slipped her bag off over her head and walked down the Armoury toward the Trophy Room, which was on the sixth floor that day. She looked around the room, but Callum wasn't there. She pulled out her copy of _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ for some light reading, and a little while later she heard footsteps.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Callum apologized, hurrying in. "I got held up in the Transfiguration Courtyard."

"What happened?"

"Nothing serious. A Slytherin and Hufflepuff got into a duel, and I had to break it up." He grinned. "But McGonagall showed up and hauled them off to her office, so I imagine the both of them are scared within an inch of their life at this moment."

Hermione grinned and set her book aside, standing up.

"So what is it today?"

"Oh..." Hermione racked her brain for something, _anything_ she could tell him she needed help studying. She said the first thing that came to her mind. "Well, there is one spell I've always had trouble with: _Expecto Patronum_."

"Ah. That's a difficult spell. From what I've heard, your friend Harry can produce a powerful Patronus. More powerful than mine I'd wager."

"He's taught me what he knows, but I thought it might help getting a second teacher— someone different."

Callum took his coat off and set it to one side of the room before withdrawing his wand. "Alright. My Patronus hasn't been as strong the last couple years, but...here goes..." He waved his wand in a circle and loudly, clearly said, " _Expecto Patronum._ "

A large, silver buffalo burst from the tip of his wand and danced around the room, its reflection bouncing off the numerous trophies. Hermione and Callum smiled as they watched it.

"It's beautiful," Hermione mumbled in awe.

"Thank you... Now you try."

Hermione took her wand from her robes and cleared her throat. " _Expecto Patronum._ " A silver mist shot from her wand and then disappeared. She frowned.

"That's alright," he assured her, "Uncorporeal Patronuses can be effective too, just not as powerful as Corporeal Patronuses. Here." He took her wand hand in his and guided it in a smooth circular motion. Hermione was glad her back was to him because she was blushing furiously. "Just make a fluid circle as you cast it." He withdrew his hand. "Try it again."

Hermione swallowed hard before waving her hand in a smooth circular motion and saying, " _Expecto Patronum."_ The silver mist shot from the tip of her wand again, lingering longer than before but disappearing again.

"That was much better," Callum praised.

* * *

As Saturday drew closer, Hermione looked forward to the first Apparition lesson with apprehension. She had read all about Apparition— what if she got splinched? Or _worse_ , what if everyone Apparated except her?

The morning of the lesson Hermione took a stroll with Callum. "Frankly I'm nervous," she admitted to him.

"Hermione, you're brilliant. You're easily the most brilliant girl I've ever met. You've got nothing to be nervous about."

Hermione blushed. "You're sure?"

"Positive," he smiled, and she smiled back at him as they reached the doors to the Great Hall.

"Just remember the three D's: Destination, Determi—"

"Who's this?" Ron asked thickly as he and Harry walked up.

Hermione was surprised that Ron had the gusto to approach her of his own accord. "This is Callum Rafferty, one of the Aurors stationed here at the castle. Callum, this is Ron Weasley."

Callum shot Ron a friendly smile and extended his hand. "Hello, Ron."

Ron grudgingly took Callum's hand. "Yeah, well, we've got to get going," he said, gesturing toward the Great Hall. "You better too, Hermione, or you'll be late."

Hermione ignored this and let he and Harry walk away. "Er, it was nice seeing you again," Harry offered lamely to Callum as he followed Ron into the Great Hall.

"Are you and Ron not on friendly terms?"

"We haven't been on friendly terms for some time now... Will you meet me after my lesson?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course."

Once Hermione had hurried into the Great Hall, she found that all of the tables had been pushed to one side of the room, and the middle of the room was instead filled with sixth-years. Some students looked as pale and nervous as she was sure she looked herself, but others seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride. Hermione wondered what that must be like— to take life easy and not let things worry or bother you. Hermione had worried about everything for as long as she could remember. She stopped a few feet away from Harry and Ron, both of them oblivious to her presence.

"You know him?" Ron asked Harry incredulously.

"Well, er...yeah," Harry replied awkwardly. "I met him at Slughorn's Christmas Party."

" _He_ was invited?"

"Well, not exactly. He sort of came with Hermione..."

"What!?"

"Good morning," Hermione heard the instructor greet the class, and she tuned Harry and Ron's conversation out. _Here goes,_ she thought to herself as the wizard from the Ministry introduced himself as Wilkie Twycross. A couple boys snickered behind her, but she didn't allow anything to distract her during the lesson.

* * *

Hermione was disappointed that she hadn't managed to Apparate, but thankfully no one else had either. After the lesson she made her way into the Entrance Hall where Callum was waiting for her.

"How did it go?" he asked her as they began to aimlessly walk.

Hermione shrugged. "I wasn't able to Apparate."

"I didn't Apparate my first time either. I don't think anyone does."

Hermione smiled up at him.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Hello. I'm sorry it's been a while since I've updated. I meant to update over the holidays, but I'm afraid I was a bit under the weather. Anyway, I hope you all had a good holiday, and I intend to upload another chapter tomorrow._


	14. Horcruxes and Patronus Charms

_**Chapter Fourteen: Horcruxes and Patronus Charms**_

Hermione was so distraught by the fact that the Hogwarts library had turned up no clue whatsoever as to what a Horocrux was that she completely forgot that she was still mad at Harry for cheating and using that bezoar in potions class. She'd even checked the restricted section and read the most _terrible_ of books, but the only scrap of information she could find on Horcruxes was a vague mentioning of it in the introduction to _Magick Moste Evile._ All it had said there was that Horcruxes were so wicked that they wouldn't speak of it or give direction. Hermione thought that rather stupid. Why bring it up at all then?

She had finished all of her classes for the day and eaten dinner and was making her way up the staircases toward the Trophy Room, wondering if it would be on the third or sixth floor that day. As she reached the second floor, two second-year Gryffindor boys came barreling down the stairs, almost knocking her over as they pushed past her, evidently in a hurry to get down to dinner.

"Hey, watch it!" Hermione called after them, "Or I'll take away house points!"

One of the boys stopped and shot her an apologetic look over his shoulder, but the other boy kept on running. Hermione rolled her eyes and trudged the rest of the way up, muttering something about children these days and thankful when she found that the Trophy Room was on the third floor that day. She made her way down the Armoury. Callum was sitting on the steps to one of the platforms, his wand already drawn and resting casually between his hands.

"Hello," he smiled up at her.

"Hello," she smiled back, setting her bag down and drawing her wand.

"Ready?" Callum stood, waved his wand in a smooth circular motion, and said, " _Expecto Patronum_." The large, silver buffalo burst from the tip of his wand again and bounced around the room. "Now you try."

Hermione cleared her throat, waved her wand in the same circular motion, and clearly said, " _Expecto Patronum!_ " The silver otter shot forth from her wand, bounced twice, and then disappeared. Hermione sighed. "We've been practicing for days now, and—"

"And you've made so much progress," Callum finished for her. "Really you have," he added at the skeptical look on her face. "You can cast Uncorporeal perfectly, and your Corporeal has improved a great deal. Try again."

Hermione tried again...and again...and _again_. "Let's take a break for a minute," Callum suggested after a while, sitting down on the steps he'd been sitting on earlier. Hermione, thankful for the break, sat down next to him and looked up at the silver buffalo still circling the room.

"You know my Patronus isn't as strong anymore," he told her comfortingly.

Hermione shot him an appreciative smile. "Mine was better last year."

"That's probably because Harry was teaching you then."

"I didn't mean it like that. You're an excellent teacher—"

He smiled and nudged her. "I know what you meant. Perhaps you need to think of a stronger, happier memory. Make it very clear in your mind," he suggested.

Hermione turned and studied him for a moment as he watched his Patronus above them, deciding to ask something she'd been wanting to ask for days. "Callum, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about...Horcruxes?"

The change in his expression informed her that he at least knew a little. "Somehow I don't think this has anything to do with your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework."

"No, it doesn't..."

"Why do you want to know?"

Hermione hesitated. _Perhaps if he knew_ _ **why**_ _,_ she thought, so she gave him a brief synopsis of Harry's lessons with Dumbledore and carefully explained, without revealing too much, the importance of Professor Slughorn's memory.

Callum listened carefully to her and considered what she had said for a moment before he replied, "I'm sure that if Headmaster Dumbledore wanted Harry to know about Horcruxes he would have told him himself... Besides, my knowledge on the subject is limited. I'm sure Dumbledore would be better qualified to speak on the subject."

This response didn't surprise Hermione, and she didn't push the subject any further.

"I saw your friend Ron the other day," Callum said after a moment of silence passed between them, and Hermione wondered why on earth he would be bringing Ron up. "He and this other girl were..."

"...being nauseating?"

He laughed quietly. "Certainly that... I take it you don't approve?" he asked a little too quickly.

Hermione scoffed. "No."

"You don't like this girl then?"

"Lavender Brown? I don't _dislike_ her, but—" Hermione stopped when she saw the look on his face. "Why?"

Callum hastily looked away. "Oh, no reason. I was just curious."

Realization hit Hermione. "You think I'm jealous, don't you? You think I like Ron?"

"What? I never said that—"

"But that's what you're thinking."

"Well, I guess...yeah. Don't you?"

"No, not at all. I'm not pleased with his choice of Lavender Brown because I think he could do better, but...no," she explained without hesitation. "I don't care about him in that way. I haven't for a long time. We're just friends."

Callum glanced down at his shoes, and Hermione thought she saw a smile grace his lips for a brief second. Suddenly, she realized why he had brought up the subject of Ron and Lavender Brown, and her heart skipped a beat.

Callum, after what felt like an eternity, turned back to face her again. "Hermione, I was wondering if... um..." His eyes seemed to be searching hers for the answer to his question left unspoken, and even though he hadn't finished the question, Hermione felt herself give him a small nod in reply.

Callum gingerly leaned in, and before Hermione had a chance to process what was happening, she closed her eyes, and his lips met hers— softly, tenderly, and carefully. She felt dizzy and weak with the sensation of it, and she was thankful that they were sitting down. She hadn't experienced anything like this since Viktor Krum had kissed her on the night of the Yule Ball.

When he pulled away, she opened her eyes. They both smiled when their eyes met, and Hermione could feel his warm hand close over hers. She felt warm and fuzzy all over.

"Should we try that Patronus again now?" he asked, standing up.

Hermione stood up too, and somehow she knew that this time she would successfully cast the Corporeal Patronus Charm.


	15. The Owlery

_**Chapter Fifteen: The Owlery**_

Hermione couldn't remember the last time, or if she had ever, felt this thrilled, this elated. She stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady and into the Gryffindor Common Room. Her head was spinning with the excitement of it all, and she was sure she was grinning like a foolish school girl, but she didn't care.

Only half an hour before she had shared a kiss with Callum, successfully cast her Corporeal Patronus, and an agreement had passed between the two of them. She still couldn't believe it. She was so engrossed with her own thoughts that she didn't even notice Ron and Lavender making a scene in the corner of the room.

Callum had been the perfect gentleman about everything. He had asked if her parents knew about him. She had answered, with a blush, in the positive, and he had tentatively brought up the fact that he was twenty-three and she was seventeen.

She stated immediately and with no hesitation, "That doesn't bother me at all! I'm actually glad you're a few years older. You're more mature, more grounded..." she realized she had begun to ramble. "It doesn't bother you, does it? My being seventeen?" she had asked, strengthening her grip on his hands.

"Not at all," he had assured her, smiling at her with something akin to wonder, "You're so above your years... But what about your parents? Will they mind?"

Hermione explained to him that she knew they wouldn't mind, and they had already told her that Callum sounded like a "very nice and amiable young man"— to use their _exact_ wording.  
Nevertheless, Callum made her promise that she would write to her parents to secure their approval. She already knew they would approve of Callum, but she also knew he wouldn't have any peace of mind until he _knew_ that her parents had given their approval.

* * *

Hermione mailed a letter to her parents first thing the next morning, but it was a week before she was able to get Harry alone to tell him. She had attempted to on several occasions, but Ron was always hanging around these days. She was beginning to wonder if things weren't going as smoothly with Lavender Brown as Ron pretended.

"Harry, may I have a word?" Hermione asked after Defense Against the Dark Arts class one morning.

"Sure," Harry, who wasn't in a good mood that morning, replied. Hermione didn't think that he had enjoyed one single DADA class that year because of Snape, and usually it was his favorite subject. Harry, on the other hand, had noticed how increasingly happy Hermione had been the past week.

The two of them walked a few feet away from the wooden doors of Professor Snape's classroom where Ron stood talking to Lavender, casting them what appeared to be longing glances.

"What's up?" Harry asked Hermione once they were a safe distance away from everyone. "You've been so chipper lately—"

Hermione was bursting at the seams to tell him. "Harry, Callum and I are going together. You know, dating."

Harry's mouth involuntarily slipped open. "Er... When did this happen?"

His reaction was disappointing at best, and Hermione lost some of her exuberance. "About a week ago." She frowned and crossed her arms. "No need to be so happy for me, Harry."

Harry immediately looked back up, his gaze previously fixed on his shoelaces. "I am, Hermione— happy— excited— I mean. It's just... _weird_."

Hermione knew that Harry still had his hopes set on a reconciliation between Ron and herself. Perhaps even _more_ than a reconciliation. It had been hard for him, stuck between the two of them. "I'm really very, very happy, Harry. I can't remember ever being this happy."

"Of course. And I'm happy for you, Hermione," Harry smiled, reaching out and touching her arm. "I'm just surprised— that's all. I want you to be happy, and Callum appears to be a stand-up guy, so... you should go for it."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry smiled back, and the two of them started to walk down the hallway again. "I asked Callum about Horcruxes the other day. I could tell he knows something about them, but he wouldn't tell me anything," she informed Harry.

"You told _him_?" Ron asked incredulously, suddenly appearing beside Harry and looking a little out of breath.

"It's fine," Harry quickly interjected, "I'm sure Hermione didn't tell him _everything_."

"No, I didn't," Hermione replied nonchalantly, seemingly untouched by Ron's tone. "It's not like Harry would tell, say... _Ginny_ everything— or you Lavender."

"Ginny?" Ron echoed, confused.

Harry's cheeks flushed red, and Hermione shot her best friend an impish grin before briskly strolling away. "See you around, Harry." Hermione made her way to the Owlery and was glad when she opened the door to find Callum already waiting for her. He smiled at the sight of her and took her hand in greeting.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Good. I told Harry about us," Hermione beamed, leaning next to Callum against the windowsill.

"What did he say?"

"He was surprised. But I think he was happy about it."

Callum nodded. "I'm more nervous about what your parents will say though to tell the truth."

Hermione smiled softly. "Stop worrying about that. Their letter may not even arrive today, and you'll have worried for nothing."

"This coming from the woman who worries over _every single_ grade even though she's more prepared than any other student in school and always receives good marks?"

They both grinned. "Touché..."

Hermione looked back out the window. A barn owl was flying toward them, and she felt Callum's hand slip from hers.

"Do you think that's it?" he anxiously asked.

"I don't know," Hermione answered as the barn owl landed on the window sill and looked around. "Let's see."

Hermione took the letter from its claws. " _Hermione Granger_. And it's in my mother's handwriting. This is it." She gently petted the owl and slipped it a treat. It cooed in appreciation and then flew up higher into the owlery's rafters and out of sight.

Hermione opened the cream colored envelope and read the contents before turning to Callum to relieve his apprehension with the answer she already knew the letter would contain. "Mother says both she and father give their approval," she told him, smiling.

Callum grinned, visibly relaxing. "That's wonderful."

"Conscience clean now?" Hermione asked, slipping her hand back in his.

"Completely."

Hermione wondered if he was about to kiss her, but the Owlery door swung open, and Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley walked in. "Oh/ Hey, Hermione," Ginny greeted, casting an interested glance at Callum.

"Hey, Ginny. Dean. This is Callum Rafferty. He's one of the Aurors stationed here."

Callum extended his hand to Ginny and then Dean. "Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"Likewise," Dean smiled.

"I know your father," Callum said to Ginny, making conversation. "I certainly think a lot of him."

Ginny smiled. "Thanks."

Dean slipped his hand around Ginny's waist and pulled her closer to himself.

"Well, we were just about to go," Hermione interjected, knowing that Dean and Ginny often got physical with each other, and leading Callum to the Owlery door. "Bye, Ginny. Dean."

Callum opened the door and followed Hermione out, closing the door behind him. "Arthur never mentioned he had such an attractive daughter," Callum teased as they walked down the Owlery steps.

Hermione smirked and slipped her arm through his. "Shush, you..."


	16. A Birthday Present for Ron

_**Chapter Sixteen: A Birthday Present for Ron**_

The next few weeks were like some wonderful dream for Hermione. Her classes were going spectacularly, she was coming along splendidly with nonverbal spells, her grades had gotten even better in Ancient Runes (she accredited this to the book Callum had given her), she had successfully apparated on several occasions, she had signed up for extra apparition lessons in Hogsmeade, and her personal favorite: she was spending every moment she possibly could with Callum.

Hermione slung her book bag over her shoulder and sighed, climbing the stairs and colliding with several third-years as the staircase suddenly jerked in the opposite direction. Her book bag fell to the floor, and her books scattered. She groaned and bent down, picking them up, as the third-years scuttled down the steps as the stairs became stationary once more.

After she had gathered all of her books and stuffed them back in her bag, she started back up the stairs toward the fifth floor where she was to meet Callum. After several moving stairs and several wrong turns, Hermione reached the fifth floor. She pushed a strand of her frizzy, messy hair behind her ear and started down the corridor, looking right and left for Callum.

She hadn't walked far when she saw him coming toward her. "Hey," he smiled softly.

"Hey," Hermione replied, forcing a smile, her long day catching up with her.

"Long day?"

Hermione nodded and groaned. "Yes... I've got to practice nonverbal spells for Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts; write an essay on Inferius, and we're learning about Snargaluff pods in Herbology. I cut my hand on one of the thorns today in class and haven't even had the time to heal it, and on the way up here I bumped into some third-years, and all my books fell to the floor. They didn't even bother to stop and help me pick them up—"

"Hermione, stop and take a deep breath," Callum smiled almost in amusement, gently placing his hands on her upper arms.

"I can't. I've got to finish my essay on Everlasting Elixirs too. It's supposed to be a three page essay. I've gotten six pages done so far, but there are still several elixirs I haven't covered that I really think I should include. And I've got a Prefect's meeting in a couple hours. I can't miss that."

Callum mutely guided her to a nearby bench as she continued to list everything she had to do. He took his wand out and silently cast _Tergeo_ on the cut on her hand, the dried blood disappearing from her cut. "...and I should probably go ahead and get a head start on that Dementors essay. That should be easy enough..." Hermione looked down at her hand in his and saw it was healed. "Oh, thank you. The nonverbal Transfiguration spells are harder than I had expected. To top it all off I've got a throbbing headache—"

"Come on."

"What? Where are we going?" Hermione asked as Callum pulled her up to her feet.

Callum took her book bag from her and swung it over his shoulder. "You'll see. Just come on." He led her down the corridor at a brisk pace. "How many books have you got in here? It's heavy," he laughed.

"I don't know. Callum, where—"

"You'll see. Just be patient."

He led her through several corridors, pushing past students and up flights of stairs until they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower. He started up them, but Hermione pulled back. "The Astronomy Tower is off-limits to students except for classes."

"I'm not a student," he replied.

"But I am."

"But you're with me."

Hermione hesitated, but Callum gently tugged on her hand. "Come on, Hermione," he smiled warmly.

Hermione smiled too and, against her better judgement, followed him up the winding stairs to the Astronomy Tower. When they reached the top, she took in a deep breath of the fresh air.

Callum set Hermione's book bag off to the side and led her to the railing of the Astronomy Tower. "Now close your eyes and take a deep breath."

Hermione sighed but did as he said and closed her eyes. She took another deep breath and felt the cool February wind push through her hair and past her face. She could hear a few birds chirping and felt Callum's warm hand close around hers.

After several long, relaxing moments, Hermione opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Better?" he asked.

"Much better," she smiled.

She sighed happily and leaned into him as he slipped his arm around her shoulder and they looked out across the grounds below. "It's beautiful up here," she smiled.

"It is," he replied looking out toward the Black Lake before kissing the top of her head.

Hermione saw Hagrid down at his hut with a group of third-years. The third-years were crouched down over the dirt, but one girl seemed more interested in petting a sleeping Fang. It looked as if Hagrid had paired the students up with a Niffler as he had with Hermione's class in their fourth-year. She remembered Ron's Niffler had found the most gold, and Hagrid had given him a large slab of chocolate from Honeydukes. She smiled a little at the recollection.

"I remember last year when we were up filling out our star charts for our Astronomy O.W.L.s," Hermione recalled aloud to Callum, "Umbridge and Dawlish and some other officials from the Ministry attacked Hagrid. Professor McGonagall ended up getting hurt."

Hermione wasn't sure if it was her hand or Callum's that shivered at the mention of Umbridge. "I still can't believe she was ever allowed anywhere near this place. She's much better suited to cats, not children."

They watched the third-years at Hagrid's Hut until two Nifflers got into a fight over some gold. A Ravenclaw girl somehow got in the middle of it, and a few minutes later, Hagrid was carrying the crying girl to the castle. The class disbanded and began to make its way back toward the castle.

"I'm glad you're here to help me unwind," Hermione smiled, intertwining her hand in his.

"So am I," he smiled.

Hermione leaned up, and Callum kissed her.

* * *

It wasn't until Saturday, March 1st, that the reality of the dangerous wizarding world they were living in came crashing down on Hermione in a big way.

Hermione had slept in later than usual that Saturday morning because the trip to Hogsmeade had been canceled. "I think it's the smart thing to do with what happened to Katie Bell," Callum had told Hermione when she'd brought it up to him a few days earlier. "She's still in St. Mungo's. I'm not even sure students should be allowed to go into Hogsmeade for those extra apparition tests."

" _Now_ who's being the worry wart?" Hermione had teased, nudging him. He'd simply shrugged and smiled.

Hermione took her time at breakfast, aware somewhere in the back of her mind that it was Ron's birthday as she looked over her morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. There'd been more disappearances reported. Some of them had been family members of Hogwarts students.

Parvati was halfway through her meal when Lavender came in looking particularly irritated and plopped down on the bench beside her. The two of them began to whisper, and Hermione decided that it would be a good time to leave. She noticed that neither Harry nor Ron had come down for breakfast before she left to meet up with Callum in the Clock Tower Courtyard.

The two of them walked to the Owlery, and Hermione mailed a letter to her parents, before taking a stroll down to the Quidditch Pitch where the Hufflepuff team was training for their upcoming match against Gryffindor. Hermione had brought her Ancient Runes book and was looking through a few pages with Callum. A March wind blew the pages, and Hermione saw the same small, precise handwritten lettering in the back that she'd stared at a dozen times before.

 _Leona Broadmoor_

"Callum," Hermione gingerly began as she fingered the book, "Tell me more about your mother..." She hadn't dared to bring up the subject of either of his parents since that day in the library when he'd informed her that they were both dead, but she couldn't help but be curious. She stared at him expecting some sort of a reaction, but instead all he said was, "What would you like to know about her?"

Hermione smiled softly. "Well...anything you'd like to tell me. What was she like?"

He smiled, and Hermione could tell he was thinking back. "Well...she was the kindest woman I've ever known, patient, and hard-working. She worked at Twilfitt and Tatting's and part time at Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, but she somehow always managed to keep the house picked up and put a hot meal on the table every day and pay for Hogwarts, even when money was scarce... Which it often was."

Hermione watched him and listened carefully, wondering where his father was in all of this but not wanting to interrupt. He chuckled. "She was like you in that she loved Arithmancy. She even named my sister after—"

Now Hermione couldn't stop herself from interrupting. " _Sister_?" she exclaimed.

Before Callum had a chance to answer, Ginny came running up the stairs. She was out of breath, and there was a frantic look in her bright brown eyes. "Ron—he's—he's—he's been poisoned!" she managed to say.

Hermione could feel all the color drain from her face. "Poisoned? When?"

Ginny shook her head. "Just come on." She grabbed ahold of Hermione's hand and pulled her down the stands and across the sprawling lawn. Hermione gestured for Callum to follow and took his hand in hers once he had caught up.

As the three of them climbed the stairs of the Clock Tower, Hermione forgot all of her anger and frustrations concerning Ron. She just hoped with all her might that the boy who had once been her best friend would be alright.


	17. A Friendship Renewed

_**Chapter Seventeen: A Friendship Renewed**_

Hermione wasn't allowed in to see Ron until eight o'clock that night. She and Callum had followed Ginny to the Hospital Wing where Harry had been pacing outside the large double doors to the room. Hermione had immediately demanded Harry recount what had happened, and then there was nothing to do but wait to see Ron.

Hermione could tell Callum was experiencing some guilt over leaving her; he had castle patrols to attend to, but she had assured him it was alright. He had returned later, shortly before they'd been allowed into the room to see Ron.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had arrived earlier and seen Ron before following Dumbledore to his office. Hermione and Callum, Ginny, Harry, and Fred and George were now all sitting around the room staring at Ron pale faced and unconscious in his hospital bed. Fred and George had apparently been in Hogsmeade for some reason, but Hermione didn't listen to the rest of the conversation that passed between the two of them and Harry. Hermione had already heard Harry recount how Ron had been poisoned a hundred times that day.

She sniffed and joined Callum, standing over by one of the windows. He'd been staring out it for the past half hour. It had been dark for hours now and raining, so Hermione wasn't sure what he was staring at, but he took her hand in his when she reached him.

"Har-mi-neeeee..." she heard Ron mumble in his sleep. Hermione's cheeks flushed scarlett, and she shifted from foot to foot. She knew Callum was staring directly at her, but she didn't meet his gaze, and relief washed over her when Hagrid barged in and provided a distraction.

Hagrid was followed a few minutes later by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the latter embarassing Harry with her many hugs and thanks for saving her boy's life. Madam Pomfrey was insistent that some of them leave (there were only to be six visitors at a time she reminded them), so Harry, Hermione, Callum, and Hagrid left Ron to be alone with his family.

"It's getting late," Callum noticed, "I need to patrol the grounds. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned and shook Hagrid's hand and said, "Good to see you again," before pecking Hermione on the cheek and disappearing down the dark hallway.

Hermione flushed as Hagrid and Harry watched. "That's... Callum Rafferty," she explained lamley to Hagrid.

"I know Callum," Hagrid replied, smiling heartily. "An Auror 'e is. A fair one at that."

She smiled, proud to hear Hagrid thought so. Hagrid leaned in closer to them, some rain water from his large, bushy beard dripping onto Hermione's forehead, and whispered, "An' part of the Ordor 'e is. But I s'pect you knew that already," he beamed at Hermione as if she must be especially proud.

"No, I didn't," she said thoughtfully. He had a sister? And now she found out that he was a member of the Ordor? What else was he keeping from her?

The three of them began to walk toward the marble staircase, and the conversation turned to the trouble the school was in with all of these attacks. Hagrid told them that Dumbledore was worried. That couldn't be good. Apparently, Hagrid had overheard an argument between Dumbledore and Snape, but before the groundskeeper could tell them more, they ran into Filch, giddy at the sight of two students out of bed at this time of night. While Filch and Hagrid argued, Hermione and Harry slipped back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

The news of Ron's near death experience had spread quickly throughout the castle, and though it did not cause as much excitement as Katie Bell's cursing had, Hermione was forced to deal with Romilda Vain's constant questioning.

 _"Is it true that Harry saved that Weasley boy?  
"Shoved a bezoar down his throat is what I heard.  
"How ingenius! I never would have thought of that. But of course Harry would. He's so good at potions, you know-"_

"Excuse us for a moment, ladies." Hermione grinned, relieved at the sight of Callum. "I'm afraid I must have a word with Miss Granger." He gently took her arm, and they walked a few feet away from Romilda Vain and the small group of girls. Hermione noticed Romilda watching Callum the way she always watched Harry. Hermione huffed and decided to pull him around the corner and out of sight of Romilda Vain.

"Thanks," Hermione smiled. "I thought she would never stop going on and on about how utterly fantastic Harry is..."

Callum smiled, a little amused. "Don't mention it."

They began to walk toward Hermione's Arithmancy class. "How come you never mentioned that you're part of the Ordor?" Hermione quietly asked him.

"It just never came up, and I guess I figured you already knew," he answered honestly.

"How long have you been a member?"

"Since You-Know-Who returned two years ago. Dumbledore reconvened the Ordor, and Alastor Moody recruited me. I suppose Moody thought he could trust me because he'd just helped me out of some pretty hot water I'd gotten into with Fudge. I expected to be sent to the Centaur Liason Office any day."

Hermione listened. "Centaur Liason?"

"Thought I'd be sacked," he smiled.

"Oh. And your sister?" she asked in a more accusitory tone than she'd meant to, but they had already come to the doors of Hermione's Arithmancy class.

"You've got class... I'll tell you later."

"Promise?" Hermione asked as she looked up at him with big eyes.

He smiled softly and kissed her forehead. "I promise."

They made plans to meet that evening before dinner, and Hermione went to class.

* * *

Once Hermione and Harry had finished their last lesson of the day, they decided to go visit Ron in the Hospital Wing. "McLaggen's taking Ron's spot in the upcoming match then?" Hermione asked Harry as they walked along.

"Yeah," Harry affirmed with a sigh, "I only told him two days ago that he could take Ron's place, and he's already driving me crazy. I've had to remind him three times today that _I'm_ the Captain."

They climbed the marble staircase and opened the doors to the Hospital Wing. "Hey, Harry," Ron grinned. "Oh... Hey, Hermione," he added, completely shaken by her visit.

"How are you doing today?" Harry inquired swinging his bag into a nearby chair.

"Fine, I s'pose..." He shot Hermione a cautious glance.

Hermione decided to make the first step toward breaking the ice. She had promised herself she'd make Ron come to her this time, but... he had almost died. "Not having any more romantic thoughts about Romilda Vain are we?"

Harry and Ron both laughed. "Definitely not," Ron replied, visibly relaxing. "Still can't believe a girl could stoop that low." He turned to Harry. "How's er- McLaggen coming along?"

"Fine," Harry shrugged, "But he's driving me crazy, constantly telling everyone else what they should be doing, how to run the plays. He seems to forget that I'm the Captain."

Ron grinned and seemed to be satisfied with Harry's response. "Yeah, he's a git."

Hermione quietly listened and tried to pretend that she was interested as another ten minutes passed with talk of the upcoming Gryffindor-Quidditch match.  
Finally, she interjected. "I should probably get going. I promised Callum I would meet him down by the lake before dinner."

"Callum? You're meeting with him now?" asked Ron, flabbergasted.

Hermione picked up her school bag. "Yes..." She cast Harry a questioning stare. "Didn't Harry tell you?"

Harry was suddenly very interested in a loose button on his sweater and wouldn't look up to meet Hermione's or Ron's gaze. "No, he didn't," Ron replied.

"Oh. Well..." Hermione looked down. She was finding it hard to tell Ron that she was dating someone now that she suspected Ron fancied her at least a bit. "We started dating shortly after the holiday break."

"And you didn't see fit to tell your best friend?"

"Well, I sort of figured Harry had told you-"

Ron ignored this. "He's an Auror, Hermione."

"You say that like it's a bad thing-"

"How old is he anyway?"

"Twenty-three-"

"He's so much older than you!"

"He is not!" Hermione snapped.

"I'd watch him if I were you," Ron warned. "Seems Dad mentioned a Death Eater by the name of Rafferty once."

She glared at him. "Now I've got to go." Hermione left, unsure wether Ron had been angry that she was dating Callum or angry that she hadn't _told_ him she was dating Callum.


	18. A Sister Remembered

_**Chapter Eighteen: A Sister Remembered**_

Hermione met up with Callum by the black lake. The sunset's reflection was sparking bright and colorful on the surface of the water, and the silhouette of Callum standing languidly in front of it made it all rather picturesque in Hermione's mind.

"How's the patient?" he asked pleasently as she approached.

"Much better. I think his only real cure would be to play in the upcoming match."

"I'm not sure that would be his _only_ cure," he said, and Hermione could sense there was an underlying meaning in his comment, but she didn't feel like discussing that at that moment. Or ever.

"So," she changed the subject, pushing a strand of unruly hair behind her hair, "You promised you'd tell me about your sister?"

"I knew you wouldn't let me forget about that," he grinned knowingly as he skipped a stone across the lake. Hermione thought back to Hagrid skipping rocks on this same lake some years ago; it was funny how much her life had changed in these few short years.

"You don't have to talk about her," she relented, "If you don't want to."

"I want to," he assured her, gazing sincerely at her, "I want you to know anything you want to know."

Hermione tried to hide the hard swallow in her throat by glancing down at her shoes and clearing her throat. "Alright..." She waited a moment for him to continue as he knelt down and searched for another smooth stone to skip. Eventually, he stood, but Hermione had already grown impatient and asked, "What was her name?"

"Bridget," he replied immediately, as if he'd wanted to be prompted. "My mother named her after Bridget Wenlock, a famous Arithmancer that lived in the thirteenth-century. She was the first to-"

"Discover the magical properties of the number seven," Hermione finished without a second thought.

A smile formed on his lips, and he looked at her. "That's right. But of course you'd know that. Sirius was right about you."

Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"You _are_ the brightest witch of your age," he answered looking back out to the lake, and Hermione was glad that he couldn't see the color creeping, against her will, into her cheeks. _So they'd talked about her?_

"Bit ironic though," he continued, "Bridget hated Arithmancy when she came to Hogwarts."

"What house was she in?" She could tell he was enjoying this, talking about his sister. She wondered if he didn't often get the chance.

"Hufflepuff. It suited her... She was kind, thoughtful...and not to be stereotypical, but a good finder as well."

"Where is she now?" Hermione asked.

"Dead," he replied with a forced indifference, and she instinctively reached out and put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Callum..." She suddenly felt guilty making him drag all this up.

"No, it's alright." He took her school bag from her and then her hand. He started back toward the castle alongside her.

Hermione ran her thumb thoughtfully over his hand as they walked, neither of them in any hurry to return to the castle. "How old was she?"

"Eighteen," he said with less indifference than before.

Hermione knew not to ask any more questions at that moment. There would be time for him to explain everything to her, so instead she leaned up, pecked his cheek, and said, "Thanks for telling me."

* * *

Wether Ron had been upset that Hermione was dating Callum or upset that she hadn't told him she was dating Callum, Ron soon appeared to have forgotten and was instead completely focused on the upcoming match against Hufflepuff.

"I think Ron's pretty worried that McLaggen will outdo him in the match today and you'll be forced to replace him," Hermione confided in Harry as they walked along the corridor the day of the Hufflepuff match.

"I know," Harry said. "I'm going up to see him once more before the match and try to convince him otherwise. How is everything with Callum?"

Hermione had noticed that Harry seemed more open to the idea of her dating Callum now that she and Ron were friends again. "It's going really, really well," she smiled openly.

"I'm glad. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time," he admitted.

The two of them split ways at the Clock Tower Courtyard: Hermione to meet Callum at the Quidditch Pitch, and Harry to go see Ron in the Hospital Wing.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Hello! I'm sorry my updates have been somewhat sporadic. Life just seems to get busy on you. I hope you're all enjoying the story, and thank you all again for favoriting, following, reviewing, and reading!_


	19. The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Match

_**Chapter Ninteen: The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Match**_

The day of the greatly anticipated Gryffindor—Hufflepuff match arrived, and poor Ron couldn't have been more sick to be stuck in the Hospital Wing. He couldn't have acted more pathetic either; Madam Pomfrey had had to threaten him with a Full-Body Bind curse to keep him in bed on more than one occasion. McLaggen, on the other hand, couldn't have been more delighted to take the former's position as keeper.

"I can't believe Loony Lovegood is commentating," complained a fourth year boy a row behind Hermione and Callum.

"I think Luna's going a great job," Callum told Hermione, intentionally a little louder than necessary, "She has a much more interesting take on the sport than the usual commentators, and her voice puts you at ease." Hermione took his hand in hers and couldn't hide the smile that spread across her lips, and she didn't attempt to.

It was a constant battle with McLaggen for Harry. The latter was constantly having to reprimand the former, who, to top it all off, was telling all the other Gryffindor players how to play while forgetting about _his own_ position. Hermione felt bad for Harry and looked forward, for everyone's sake, to the day when Ron would be able to play again.

"Put that bat down and get back to the goal post!" she could hear Harry bellowing to McLaggen just before a bludger came soaring straight toward Harry's head and hit its target. He spun dizzily, suspended in the air for a moment as the crowd watched with bated breath, and then fell off his broom at an alarming rate toward the ground.

There were numerous gasps and cries from the stands, but Hermione's tightened stomach relaxed as two players managed to catch Harry before he hit the ground. "Stupid McLaggen," she muttered under her breath as she watched two Hufflepuff students carrying Harry from the field.

* * *

When Hermione and Callum reached the Hospital Wing, Harry was already lying on his back in a hospital bed, and the ever diligent Madam Pomfrey was leaning over him. He looked to be in quite a bit of pain. "Is he going to be alright?" Hermione asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Cracked skull," she answered curtly, "We'll have it fixed shortly."

Hermione couldn't help but be silently amused by this statement. How different the Wizarding world was from that of the Muggle. As Madam Pomfrey attended to Harry, Hermione heard Callum ask Ron, "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Ron replied awkwardly as he caught a glimpse of Callum's and Hermione's intertwined hands.

"I'm glad to hear it. Everyone will be relieved when you're able to play again."

"Yeah," Ron replied looking over at a pained Harry, "I suspect they will..."

The final score of the game was Hufflepuff: 320, Gryffindor: 60, and not to anyone's surprise but everyone's chagrin, it was _not_ one of Professor McGonagall's happier days.

* * *

On Monday morning both Harry and Ron were released from the hospital wing. Hermione walked down to breakfast with them and informed the two of them that Ginny and Dean had quarreled the previous night. _Again_. Harry appeared to be delighted by the news, but this didn't surprise Hermione. She had long wondered this semester if Harry's feelings towards Ron's little sister were developing into more of a romantic nature.

"You and Callum have any fights lately?" Ron asked out of the blue as he dipped himself a large helping of breakfast sausage and scrambled eggs.

"Of course not," Hermione replied, trying her hardest not to snap at him.

"Well...just remember what I told you. I'd keep an eye on him if I were you..."

Hermione glared at him before disappearing behind her morning paper.

Despite his comment, Ron and Hermione were friends again, but Hermione wouldn't be being completely honest with herself is she said that _everything_ was back to way it had been between them. By all appearances they were the best of friends again, but deep down Hermione didn't feel the same about him. She hadn't since their fourth year, but she was determined to still be friends as long as he was willing.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm SO sorry that it's taken me THIS long to post a new chapter, and a short one at that. I apologize, and I plan on updating more frequently._


	20. Elves Reporting

_**Chapter Twenty: Elves Reporting**_

The following week was less eventful, and Hermione was thankful for this and able to get ahead on some of her homework. The date for the first Apparition Test was announced: the twenty-first of April, and additional lessons in Hogsmeade would be available for those old enough. Hermione had successfully apparated twice, but Ron hadn't managed to, and it was plain to see that he was freaking out.

Sunday evening brought Hermione an unexpected revelation: Harry was having Kreacher and Dobby tail Draco Malfoy. Hermione had been sitting on the sofa of the common room correcting Ron's misspelled words in his essay on dementors (he could thank Fred and George's defective Spell-Check quill for that) as Harry flipped through his horrid copy of _Advanced Potion-Making._ She'd noticed him dog ear a page and couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh. She was sure that dog-eared page would come to haunt her come next potions class.

Seamus had headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories only moments earlier, grumbling something about Snape. Apparently Ron wasn't the only one having trouble with his essay. Hermione had just handed Ron his corrected essay back when there was a _crack,_ and Kreacher had appeared. Then another _crack_ , and Dobby had appeared by his side. Dobby had happily declared that, in his efforts to keep tabs on Draco Malfoy, he had not slept in a week.

"At least now I know where Malfoy's been going," Harry said once both house-elves were gone. "The Room of Requirement."

* * *

Hermione completely ignored Harry's hushed plans at following Draco Malfoy into the Room of Requirement at breakfast the next morning. She could tell that he was annoyed that she wasn't showing any interest or being of any help, but she'd told him countless times that he needed to instead focus on the task Dumbleore had set before him: retrieving Slughorn's memory. She set off immediately after breakfast for Ancient Runes.

* * *

"Ron and I are going to Hogsmeade this weekend for an Apparation lesson," Hermione told Callum as they walked along toward her next class. Some minutes earlier Lavender had ambushed Ron following Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hermione had slipped away from he and Harry and met up with Callum.

"Harry isn't going with you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, his birthday isn't until July."

"I'm not sure letting the students go to Hogsmeade is such a good idea after what happened to Katie Bell," Callum stated thoughtfully.

"We're going to be heavily guarded, and McGonnagal's going with us. I don't think there will be any real harm in it."

"Oh," he teased, "Well, if McGonnagal's going, then you should be fine. No one in their right minds would mess with her."

Hermione laughed and slipped her arm through his. "If I was a conceited girl, I'd say you were worried about me."

"I _am_ worried about you," he admitted freely, "I suspect I always will be. Or at least for as long as this war is going on."

Hermione liked that. She liked that very much; but she decided to lighten the conversation again. There was too much sadness in his voice. "You'll be there too this weekend, won't you?"

He didn't answer immediately. "Yes. But I wouldn't count on seeing me. You should go straight to your lesson and then straight back to the castle. Stick to your group. It's safer that way."

Before Hermione could protest, he concluded, "I'll see you later." He smiled, squeezing her hand as they reached the doors to her next class. He kissed her cheek and walked away.

* * *

 _Author's Note: So I know I didn't upload another chapter soon like I said I would, and I'm SO sorry! Time just flies by. Here's chapter twenty, short as it is. The next chapter is almost ready. It just needs some editing. Thank you for your patience and for reading._


	21. Trouble in Hogsmeade

_**Chapter Twenty-One: Trouble in Hogsmeade**_

The weekend arrived quickly, and even faster for Hermione who rarely looked at her classes as a chore or something to dread. The morning appointed for their Hogsmeade trip was beautiful; it was the first clear spring morning they had had that year.

It was obvious to Hermione how disappointed Harry was that he couldn't go to Hogsmeade as the trio walked to the entrance hall. He told she and Ron what he planned to do while they were gone for the day, but Hermione still stood by her suggestion of placing all his efforts into trying to get Slugorn to reveal the memory, not investigating Malfoy or the Room of Requirement. Harry angrily replied that he had been trying to, but Slughorn was wise to him.

"Well, we've got to get going," Hermione said as she watched the other students lining up to pass through Filch's inspection. The caretaker was always entirely too eager to poke and prod them with that Secrecy Sensor of his. "We'll see you later, Harry."

"Good luck," Harry waved half-heartedly as he started to walk away, definitely _not_ on his way to take her suggestion, and she knew it.

The Apparition lesson went well. Hermione had Apparated "perfectly," as Twycross put it. Ron had executed the lesson better than he ever had before; his mark was to land outside Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, but he managed, instead, to at least land near Scrivenshaft's. He'd scared an older wizard coming out of the shop, causing him to spill his new bag of writing quills all over the street.

Hermione and Ron were now seated by themselves a few feet away from the rest of the students. They'd all stopped off at the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. Even from the other end of the table she could hear Twycross talking about Hermione. "I'll be right back," she said under her breath to Ron.

He downed his mouthful of butterbeer. "Where are you going?"

"Callum's staying here while he's posted at the school. I thought I'd pop up and say hello."

"How do you know he's here? Maybe he's up at the castle," Ron retorted.

"He won't be back at the castle until Monday," she said as if it was obvious.

"Don't you think it's a little..." Ron colored and then continued. "...inappropriate to be going up to his room...?"

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped as quietly as her temper would allow. "How ridiculous! I'm just going to say hello."

Ron slumped back in defeat in his chair as she quietly slipped from her chair across from him and over to the stairs of the inn. She could still hear Twycross singing her praises as she ascended the stairs.

 _Room six_ , she thought to herself, recalling a conversation Callum and she had had weeks earlier when taking a stroll across the grounds. She smiled softly, happy at the prospect of seeing him, and rapped on the door.

It was a moment before the door opened, and Hermione couldn't help but gape. There stood Callum unlike she had ever seen him: his eyes were red and his face pale, his clothes disheveled. "Callum-" she said with immediate concern, "Are you sick?"

It was obvious that she was the last person he'd expected to see. "No, no— I'm perfectly well," he replied, "What are you doing here?"

"The apparition lesson— it's today. We stopped in for a quick butterbeer..."

"It's foolish of them not to take you all back to the castle immediately," he sighed.

"Callum, what's wrong—"

The sound of seats being pushed back and people moving about below echoed up the stairs. "It sounds like they're leaving. You'd better go."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong," Hermione insisted, ever stubborn.

"Hermione. Please just leave." It was the shortest he'd ever been with her, and Hermione had to admit to herself that hearing him take that tone with her made her almost sick.

But then he seemed to realize himself, and with a soft sigh that Hermione suspected wasn't directed at her, he led her gently by the arm down the hallway and to the top of the stairs. Hermione heard the students shuffling out the door below. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow?" she asked tentatively, her eyes not leaving Callum's face for even a second.

Callum shook his head. "It'll probably be a few days until I see you again."

Hermione's worry and concern must have clearly shown on her face because Callum carefully pushed a strand of her brown hair from her face and smiled for her benefit. "You know you have the most beautiful hair in the world?"

Under any other circumstances Hermione probably would've blushed, but she was too distracted at the moment. He softly and almost silently kissed her forehead and then took a step back from her. "Don't worry. I'll find you first chance I get."

"Callum..." she attempted once more.

His only response was a slight gesture of his head toward the stairs, and Hermione had no choice but to descend the wooden stairs, glancing anxiously back at him several times along the way.

"There you are," Ron, who was standing by the door waiting for her, said when he saw her. "I didn't think you'd ever come down. What's the matter? You and Callum have a row?"

Hermione didn't answer. She simply made her way outside.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Will I ever post updates regularly? I'm sorry for the delay, again! I actually had this chapter done and ready to upload last week and forgot. I hope you're all having a good week._


	22. Setting Things Right

_**Chapter Twenty-Two: Setting Things Right**_

The walk back to the castle seemed like it was never going to end, and Ron's tried and failed attempts to strike up a conversation with Hermione only made it feel that much longer.

" _Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?_

" _I don't know how Madam Rosmerta makes those butterbeers so good._

" _I think Twycross has a crush on you._

" _You will remember that I_ _ **did**_ _warn you about Callum—"_

But there he'd stopped. Hermione had thrown him one of the most vicious glares he had received since Snape had discovered that the red-head had crashed the family car into the Whomping Willow second year. He didn't say a word the rest of the way, and aside from the crunch of snow beneath their feet and the chattering students ahead of them, the walk back to the castle was silent. Ron kept both hands in his pockets and a good two feet away from her, no doubt out of self-preservation.

* * *

It was time for lunch when the group of sixth years got back to the castle. The rest of the students were already gathering in the Great Hall, and Ron and Hermione joined them. Hermione slipped her jacket and red and gold scarf off and sat down at the Gryffindor table. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she picked up her spoon and did her best. Ron, unsurprisingly and to her annoyance (everything he did was annoying her at present), had no trouble digging into his meal.

It wasn't until halfway through lunch that Harry joined them. Right away Ron informed him how he and Hermione had done, quick to mention that Hermione had done "perfectly," but nothing he said was going to make Hermione any less vexed with him, or anyone else at that moment.

"And that's not all," Ron continued under his breath as he cast a tentative look toward Hermione, who had barely looked up from her plate the entire meal. "Hermione and Callum had a fight—"

"Upon my word, Ronald, we did _not_ have a fight!" Hermione snapped, tossing her spoon into her bowl of soup with a loud _clank_.

"Then why are you acting so—"

"It's none of your business!" She huffed and pushed her hair out of her face before sharply turning to Harry. "How did you do? Any luck with the Room of Requirement?"

"Well…" Harry started.

* * *

The next few days passed slowly. Tuesday had come and gone, but Hermione had neither seen nor heard from Callum, and she was growing increasingly more anxious and simultaneously frustrated with him. He'd sent her away on Saturday with no explanation or apology, and now she had to sit around waiting for him to show up, worrying and letting her mind go to the worst possible scenarios. Did he want to break up with her? Was he dying? Did he get fired? Had he received terrible news from a long-distance relative? Was he going to have to leave? The possibilities were endless and constantly on her mind.

"Come on, 'Mione," Ron said cheerfully as he deposited a large helping of mashed potatoes on his plate one day at lunch. It was obvious that Ron was enjoying Callum's present absence, in part because Hermione had been spending more time with Harry and Ron. "Cheer up."

"You alright, Hermione?" Harry asked her.

Hermione halfway shrugged.

"He said he'd talk to you as soon as he could, didn't he?" he consoled.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed and took a sip of her pumpkin juice. She glanced down the long table of Gryffindors and noticed that one of the doors to the Great Hall was open. Callum was peeking his head in, waiting to catch eye contact with her. He waved her over.

Hermione was torn. She had two simultaneous urges: run to him and throw her arms around him or turn her head away and ignore him completely. She stared at him for a moment, silently trying to make her mind up on which option she was the most partial to at the moment.

"I'll see you two later," she finally told Harry and Ron as she swung her book bag over her shoulder and walked toward the doors, making herself take her time.

Callum was waiting outside the double doors in the Entrance Hall, looking a bit nervous. Hermione resisted the urge to throw her arms around him and instead leisurely walked toward him, silent ( _he can talk_ first, she thought to herself) and taking in his appearance. She was both delighted and relieved to find that he looked much better than he had on Saturday. His eyes were still, to some extent, red, but it was a marked improvement.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch," he said as he reached out and took her hand from her side, knowing she had to be at least somewhat vexed with him. "And I'm sorry about the other day. I know I must have given you a fright."

Hermione was kidding herself. She couldn't fight it anymore. She slipped her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. "I've been so worried about you," she breathed.

She could feel him smiling as he kissed the top of her head and gently began to rub her back. "I'm sorry…"

She didn't know how long they stood there, but she eventually relinquished her hold on him and took ahold of his hand. "Come on…"

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can be alone."

"Don't you have Defense Against the Dark Arts soon?"

Hermione didn't answer and pulled him to the Astronomy Tower and up the winding stairs.

"I thought you said students weren't allowed up here—"

"I'm with you, aren't I?"

They reached one of the lower floors of the tower, and Hermione sat down in the middle of the room. "Come on. Sit," she urged when she saw that he was just standing there, motionless.

"I'm sorry about the other day," he apologized again as he sat down in front of her, "I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did. It was rude—"

"It's alright," she interrupted, "I only want to know what the matter is."

He didn't appear to want to explain. He just sat there.

"Callum…"

He still said nothing.

"Callum," she said again, giving him an imploring look as she reached out and took his hand in hers, "What's the point in being together if we can't confide in one another?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "You're right of course…as usual," he added with the slightest grin before it faded, and he sighed. "I should've told you all of this. I should've been straightforward with you from the beginning."

Now Hermione was getting worried. She could feel her stomach tying itself in knots. "You're not… secretly married or anything like that, are you?" she asked him, horrified at the thought.

"No. No, of course not," he assured her, squeezing her hand. "It's nothing like that."

"Then… what?"

"I… I'm very ashamed of what I'm about to tell you."

Hermione prepared herself for the worst and sat in silent impatience, waiting for him to go on.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Late, as usual. I'm excited about the next chapter and hope that I'll be able to do it justice. Thank you for your support and patience! Have a great weekend!_


	23. The Quidditch World Cup

_Author's Note: I decided to do things a little differently this chapter, and I'm interested to see what you think of it. Part of me really likes it, and part of me is unsure. I hope you enjoy reading, and thank you for your continued support._

* * *

 _ **The Quidditch World Cup**_

 _ **August 18, 1994**_

The golden light flowing from the stadium illuminated the already starlit sky. It was a beautiful sight from where Callum stood. _And it ought to be,_ he thought to himself as he kicked his feet through the ankle tall grass. _Took a year to get ready._

The hundreds and thousands of wizards and witches inside the Quidditch Trillenium Stadium could be heard cheering even from where he was on the skirt of the camps nearing the tree line. The tents seemed to stretch on for as far as the eye could see.

Callum was glad this tournament only happened every four years. He loved Quidditch, but setting up security for such a large event had been a nightmare, and it didn't help that Bagman was as reckless with security as he was with his gambling.

There was a _crack_ a few feet behind Callum, and he glanced back over his shoulder. "What's the score?" he asked.

"170-160," the girl replied, her bubble-gum pink hair bouncing as she walked toward him, her feet catching clumsily on several branches and rocks.

"Final score?"

She nodded. "Uhuh. Krum caught to the Snitch, but Ireland won."

"Sounds like an exciting match."

"It was," she grinned, "You should've come with me!"

"I had my orders. Not all of us are Alastair Moody's favorite," he teased her.

Tonks made a face at him. "Just the same, I told you Ireland would win," she beamed. "So you know what that means. Next two butterbeers are on you."

" _Two_ butterbeers?" he echoed. "I thought I agreed to _one_?"

"No, no, no," she giggled, shaking her finger at him. "No getting out of this one, my friend. You agreed to _two._ "

He chuckled. "As you say. Two butterbeers it is."

"That's better," she smiled as she slipped her arm amiably through his and walked alongside him. A gentle breeze tugged at their hair and clothes, and the sound of twigs and grass beneath their feet nearly covered the sounds originating from the stadium.

"I'm glad we only have to deal with this every four years."

"Don't be such a stick in the mud," Tonks teased him. "Usually you love Quidditch."

"I guess I have been a bit of a stick in the mud of late, haven't I?" he replied with a glance toward the stadium.

"A bit..." she said honestly before nudging him, "Hey, things will brighten up. You'll see."

"I can't take you seriously when you have a snout for a nose," he laughed.

Tonks laughed too, and her nose morphed back to its natural shape. "I'll bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones I really like."

* * *

It wasn't long until the stadium began to empty of wizards and witches. "I'll bet Bagman's having a cow," Tonks chuckled with Callum, "I heard him betting with some boys that Bulgaria would win."

"I think he's got bigger problems than that. I saw a group of goblins in the forest earlier today. Pretty sure they were waiting for him."

Tonks giggled. "Makes you wonder how he ever got to be head over Magical Games and Sports."

"Especially since Crouch doesn't like him."

People were making their way to their tents, most of them cheering, laughing, and having a good time.

"Crouch tried to get Bagman sent to Azkaban," Tonks made conversation as they sat on a log and watched the witches and wizards from a distance.

"I think I heard something about that. He gave information to a Death Eater or something? Rook...Rookwood?"

"I think that was his name."

"I guess when you're a popular Quidditch player little things like that don't matter," Callum shrugged with a chuckle.

"Who even likes the Wimbourne Wasps?" Tonks asked through a mouthful of nougat she'd pulled from her pocket.

"They did win the cup eighteen times," he replied as she handed him nougat, and he ate it.

"Yeah, but..."

"Tonks... look." Callum didn't know how or when it had happened, but smoke was rising from tents in the distance. Flames could be seen mounting. He pulled on Tonks, who had seen it too, and the two of them were up on their feet straight away and running toward the smoke. It didn't take long for everything to turn into an absolute riot; people were screaming, pushing each other, and running in every which direction.

"Two Muggles..." Callum heard one man pushing past him mutter.

"We're never going to get through this crowd at this rate," Callum shouted over to Tonks as they tried to get through the ever-growing swarms of people.

"Take my hand," Tonks shouted back, and he clasped onto her hand with his. Before they Disapparated he caught a glimpse of figures in dark robes and hoods with masks, and above them two Muggles floated through the smoke filled air.

 _No,_ he thought to himself, _it can't be_. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and it had nothing to do with Tonks Apparating the two of them over the crowds at an intense speed. Screams and cries pierced Callum's ears as they landed about twenty feet behind what he now recognized to be Death Eaters.

Everything was complete chaos from that point on. People were screaming and crying, everything seemed to be on fire, smoke was quickly filling the air, and people were getting more frantic by the minute.

The second the two Auror's feet touched back on ground, Tonks darted after the Death Eaters, not wasting even a moment's time. Callum, however, heard a woman screaming, "My baby! My baby!" He rounded on the woman who was sobbing and pointing to a tent going up in flames. "My baby's still in there!" she cried to Callum, or anyone else who would listen/

 _Partis Temporus._ Callum pointed his wand at the tent entrance, and a temporary gap appeared in the flames. He ducked inside, casting _Aqua Eructo_ and spraying water everywhere he could as he looked frantically for a sign of the child. He coughed as smoke began to fill his lungs, and he climbed over a coffee table, spotting a boy no more than seven cowering under the kitchen table, crying.

 _Locomotor._ The kitchen table went flying off to the side, and Callum snatched the boy up, cast _Partis Temporus_ once more, and darted back outside just as the tent collapsed in flames. He didn't have time to put them out. He set the coughing boy down with his mother, who was nearly squeezing her son to death and kissing all over his dirty face. "Thank you...thank you..." she managed to say to Callum.

"Get out of here," he warned them before speeding off to find Tonks and the Death Eaters. It didn't take him long to find them. All he had to do was follow the streams and bursts of light. Tonks and several other wizards and witches were dueling with the Death Eaters, trying desperately to stop them from causing any more damage and to save the tortured Muggles.

Callum jumped right into the fray, casting _Stupefy_ at one of the cloaked men. He blocked it and rounded on Callum, casting _Depulso_. Tonks moved closer to Callum, and the two young Aurors fought off three of the Death Eaters together. Callum thought he saw Arthur Weasley out of the corner of his eye.

"Watch it," Tonks warned, pushing Callum out of the way as a fiery orange burst of light flew past them and exploded on impact several feet away.

"Thanks," Callum muttered as several more spells passed between them.

 _Incarcerous._ Thin cords shot from Callum's wand and bound the Death Eater closest to them. As he hit the ground with a satisfying thud, struggling against the cords, Tonks disarmed him with _Expelliarmus_. But he didn't remain there for long, as a second Death Eater cast _Diffindo_ on the cords, and the third helped him up while the two Aurors were busy fending off a Firestorm a fourth Death Eater had encircled them with.

Callum and Tonks had just extinguished the flames of the Firestorm when a horrible green light draped across the sky, overshadowing everything below. There was no doubt about what it was: it was the Dark Mark. Calllum stared up in disbelief and horror at the green skull and snake in the sky. Never in his lifetime did he think he'd ever see that again.

It was Tonks bellowing, "COME BACK HERE, YOU COWARDS!" that snapped him out of his trance. He pried his eyes from the sky and back to the fight at hand, but the Death Eaters were dispersing. Callum and Tonks began to chase after the dark wizards, but they were already Disapparating, their dark forms flying away at incredible speeds.

"UGH!" Tonks huffed when they were gone, kicking her boot angrily in the dirt.

Callum wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth with his sleeve and looked around. They had their work cut out for them.

"You OK?" he asked Tonks.

The Auror, nodded, still fuming. "Yeah, I guess."

"Who cast the Dark Mark?"

"I don't know. It obviously wasn't them—"

"Rafferty! Get over here!" a man shouted.

"The spell came from over there...somewhere..." Callum joined the group being led by Barty Crouch, and they Disapparated to a clearing by the woods.

 _"STUPEFY!"_ they'd all shouted before Callum had even realized who or what they were firing at.

"STOP!" he heard someone shouting. "That's my son!"

Callum turned and saw Arthur Weasley running up to the three teenagers he and the other Ministry Workers had fired on. Callum sighed quietly to himself. He didn't say anything or move away from the group, but it was obvious to him that these three teenagers— a ginger boy who was evidently Arthur's son, a bushy-haired girl, and Harry Potter were not to blame for the appearance of the Dark Mark.

He stayed silent through the whole matter, but he thought the whole thing was spiraling out of control and into the ridiculous ( _they're accusing Crouch's elf now_?), and he was relieved when he was dismissed and able to go help with clean up.

* * *

"Give it a few days..." Callum told the older wizard, whose burned arm he'd just lathered in a thick orange paste. "It should heal right up, but you should still have it checked out."

The man smiled and nodded. "Thank you..."

Callum nodded and stood, stretching and beginning to walk.

"Long night, huh?" Tonks sighed, joining him as they walked.

"Yeah."

"Want to stop by the Leaky Cauldron? You can make your first butterbeer installment," she teased.

Callum smiled at the suggestion. That sounded so good right at that moment, to just kick back and unwind. "I'd love to, but..."

"But you're stopping by there again," she finished for him.

"Yeah," he confirmed sheepishly.

"You know you don't have to go by there all the time... It's not good for you."

"I know, but... I have to."

"Want me to come with you?" she offered.

"Nah. It's been a long night. Go home and get some rest."

She punched his arm playfully before taking a few steps away. "Tell Bridget hi for me."

"I will."

"Can I expect a butterbeer tomorrow night?"

"Count on it," he smiled with a wave.

"I'll hold you to that," she smiled before Disapparating.

Callum looked up at the stars and let out a long sigh. It had been a long night.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Well, I'm interested to see what you think. Thank you for reading. :)_


	24. No Place Like Home

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: No Place Like Home**_

* * *

 _Crack!_

Callum's feet hit the cobblestone street, and he began to make his way through the familiar little village. There was a crescent moon that hung serenely above the village up amongst the stars. The village looked very picturesque, as it always did to him, and it seemed strange to think that its inhabitants were wholly unaware and untouched by the horrors he'd witnessed that night.

" _Wha' was that?"_ he heard a Muggle ask from a cottage somewhere behind him.

" _It was just a car backfirin',"_ another said, _"Now get back inside."_

As the small cottage at the end of the country lane came into view with only a glimmer of light shining through the windows, Callum sighed quietly to himself. The night's adrenaline was starting to wear off and was being replaced with fatigue. _But I need to stop and check in_ , he told himself.

The gate of the picket fence swung open and made its usual creak—he kept meaning to fix that. Walking up the brick walkway and up the wooden steps, he heard raised voices coming from inside the cottage before he even had a chance to knock.

" _If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times…"_

A quick _Alohomora_ , and the door was open, and Callum entered the cottage. A lone candle on an end table lit the living room, casting shadows onto the two figures in the corner of the room. The smaller figure was up against the wall, a hand at her throat, as she coughed and sputtered something indistinguishable.

"…stay out of my things!" the man shouted in her face, strengthening his hold on the woman's neck.

"Get your hands off of her," Callum warned, casting _Relashio_.

Purple sparks shot from the tip of his wand, the man's grip failed, and he was pushed back against the opposite wall with a loud _thud_ that Callum found extremely satisfying.

"HOW DARE YOU DRAW A WAND ON ME IN MY OWN HOUSE?" he roared at Callum, whose wand was still firmly in his hand as he helped his mother to her feet.

Callum ignored him. "Are you alright?" he asked his fraying mother with obvious concern as he looked her over.

"I'm fine," she assured him, patting his arm.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" the man growled, eyes flashing, and he pushed his long and scraggly hair out of his ugly, hardened face. He reeked of alcohol, and it didn't look as if he'd bathed in weeks.

Callum still didn't look at him or acknowledge him. "Let me help you to the couch," he gently told his mother.

The man grabbed Callum forcefully by the arm, but Callum instantly shook his hand off. "Get your filthy hands off me, you old sod, and don't you ever lay a hand on my mother again," he spat, rounding on his father and earnestly contemplating using one of the Unforgiveable Curses on him as his wand twitched in his hand.

"Cal—don't," his mother pleaded quietly, tugging on his arm, "It's not his fault."

"Ungrateful little…" he could hear his father muttering as he shuffled off, no doubt in search of a bottle of firewhisky.

Leona pulled her son by the sleeve into the kitchen despite his protests, and she lit a candle and began to make a pot of tea. Callum watched her by the light of the candle, and for the first time that morning he got a good look at her. Her bottom lip was cut, and there was bruising on the side of her face. "What's he been doing to you, Mum…?" he asked in a small voice, taking her hand gently in his own and noticing more bruising on her wrists.

"It's not his fault," his mother said again, eyes brimming with tears, "His scar's been hurting him lately—"

"You mean his _Dark Mark_ ," Callum corrected, immediately regretting the tone he'd taken with her.

"…yes. It's been giving him such trouble lately," she explained as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"Please come live with me," he offered for what must've been the hundredth time. "You and Bridget can—"

"We've been through this, Cal. No. I can't."

"Why can't you?" he asked impatiently.

"I've given you my answer more times than I care to count. I'm his wife, he's my husband. This is my duty—"

"He stopped being your husband a long time ago."

Leona sighed, her eyes tired, as she poured the hot water into a tea cup. "I think this will pass. He'll readjust to life outside of…of—"

"Azkaban," Callum finished coldly for her. "Mom… you've been saying that for months now. When will you realize that he isn't going to readjust? He isn't going to change? This is who he is. He's a murderer. He's a liar. He tortured people, all for You-Know-Who."

She twisted her gold wedding band she'd only just recently started wearing again around her ring finger and bit her bottom lip. "He hasn't always been this way…" she said barely above a whisper.

Callum felt sorry beyond words for her. He reached out and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and sighed. "Mum…"

"It's just the scar, okay?" she said before he could go any further. "Once it stops hurting—"

"And _this_ has _nothing_ to do with it?" he asked sarcastically, holding up an empty bottle of firewhisky and waving it at her.

His mother gave him a reproachful look, but he could tell by her eyes that she didn't mean it. "Cal, that isn't fair."

" _Isn't fair_?" he echoed. "What isn't fair is him coming back here after all these years and acting like he's man of the house— ordering you and Bridget around, beating you—"

"I told you I'm fine."

"Then what about Bridget? Is she fine too?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She didn't reply.

"How long are you going to subject her to this?" he pushed.

"I'm not subjecting her to anything. He hasn't laid a hand on her. I would _never_ let that happen, and you know that. I'm trying to work things through, Cal… please give me time."

Callum stared at her and then finally sighed. "Whatever you say, Mum…" He was ready to pull his hair out, but he instead leaned down and kissed her forehead."Here. Let me take that in to him," he offered as he took the cup of hot tea from her shaking hands.

Callum carried the cup of tea into the living room, and offered it silently to his father who was sitting back on the couch, an empty firewisky bottle propped between his legs.

"What's that?" he asked gruffly.

"Tea."

"Ha. Like I'd take tea from you. Probably poisoned it."

"Trust me, if I was going to kill you, I wouldn't use poison. Too quick and not painful enough in my experience," he said a little too sincerely.

His father stared up at him with hate in his eyes and none too gently took the tea, half the contents of the cup spilling onto his pants.

"Here, sweetie," Callum's mother said, coming out with two more cups. The last thing he wanted to do was sit and have tea with his father, but for his mother's sake he took the cup and sat down in an old, stained arm chair across from them.

Other than his father's heavy breathing and occasional coughing, the room was silent for several minutes that seemed to draw out for an eternity. Being in the same room as this murderer was unbearable.

"There was an attack at the World Cup last night," Callum said pointedly, looking at his father.

"How terrible… Is that how you got that gash on your lip?" his mother asked him, obviously guilty about the fact that she'd only just noticed it.

He nodded and continued, still looking at his father. "It was Death Eaters. You would've loved it, actually. They had two Muggles that they were torturing."

Even in the poorly lit room Callum could tell that all of the color had drained from his mother's face. "Of course I guess that isn't really your style, is it? You like to mix a little torture with murder. Too bad your old pals didn't invite you to their party, huh?"

It was obvious that his father was close to the boiling point, and that only made Callum want to continue. "But I guess they'd have no use for someone who managed to get themselves caught and locked up in Azkaban. Not to mention the fact that you ratted a whole slew of them out. They must _hate_ you. I mean, _I_ would."

"Callum…" his mother warned him, but he was enjoying himself too much.

"Even if you hadn't ratted them out I doubt they'd have much use for you anyway. I mean look at you," he laughed, "You're a drunken slob who can hardly manage to get out of bed in the morning. Oh, and there's the little matter of you not having a wand—"

There was a loud shatter as a cup of tea was thrown onto the carpet, and Callum was more invigorated than anything else when his father lunged at him, a crazed look in his dark eyes. Being taller, quicker, and a lot younger than his father, he easily blocked the lunge, grabbing his father by the collar as he began to punch him.

"Callum—stop!" he could hear his mother say as he allowed her to yank him back. His father slid down the wall and lay in a slump on the floor, wiping blood from his bleeding mouth with his wrinkled shirt sleeve. Callum could see the hate in his dark eyes.

Leona knelt down and reached out to touch her husband's split lip, but he swatted her hand away, still staring up at Callum. "Worthless piece of dragon dung…" he spat. "Always been a brat. Should've married that little winch back in the day at the Leaky Cauldron—wouldn't have ended up with such a—"

"Alright," Callum's mother said, for the first time that night looking as if she'd had enough as she stood up and took Callum's hand in a calming way. "I think you'd better leave…" she told him quietly. She led him outside and down the porch steps.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him, Mom," Callum protested.

"I want you to. Please… go. Before he says anything more about you. I can't bear to listen to that."

"Then don't. Please just… come with me," he begged.

"You know I won't."

He sighed, feeling utterly defeated every time she said that. "Well… at least keep your wand on you, will you?"

"I don't have my wand—"

"What—!"

"I hid it," she said before he could freak out, "I didn't want him getting ahold of it. He thinks I lost it months ago and can't afford a new one."

Callum stared at her at a loss for words. "How can you live with that man? That—that _murderer_ —"

"I'm not going to go through all of this with you again," she said softly, pushing up onto her toes to plant a long, motherly kiss on his cheek. "I love you, but I'm not going to come with you. So go home and get some sleep. You look exhausted."

Callum kissed her forehead and turned toward the gate. "But Callum?" He turned back and looked at her, hopeful she'd changed her mind. "Try to get Bridget to go with you."

He smiled weakly and nodded. At least that was something. "I will. I love you."

The gate creaked open— _I really need to fix that_ —and he set off down the hill, knowing Bridget would be out on the moors where she almost always was these days.

It didn't take him long to find her; she was sitting on a wooden fence, playing with some lights coming from the tip of her wand.

"Isn't it rather early for you to be up?" he asked as he approached her. "As I recall we always had to drag you out of bed of a morning."

Smiling at his voice, she turned to him and said, "You're one to talk," before giving him a warm and welcoming hug. "I couldn't possibly sleep back there. It's quiet out here. Peaceful."

They both settled on the fence, shoulders touching, and then she said, "Remember coming out here when we were kids? I thought it was the most beautiful place to live." She sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could just pick up and move somewhere—anywhere. Just so long as it isn't here."

"I may know a place," he proposed wryly. "Free rent, a fairly comfortable bed, three meals a day, an only occasionally messy roommate… Wow. Sounds pretty great, doesn't it?"

To his credit, Bridget did give him a bemused smile for his attempt. "It does sound pretty spectacular. But only _occasionally_ messy? I think you may be underselling yourself."

"Okay, so maybe more than occasionally messy," he smiled, "But it's still a pretty great offer."

"Well, you always have been so modest."

"So… what do you say?"

Bridget's smile slowly faded, and she reached down to pluck a strand of tall grass to keep her hands occupied. "I say what I always say. I can't."

"Of course you can't," he said derisively.

"Don't be like that, Cal. You know why I can't leave."

"I assume you mean the reason you broke up with Roger? And the reason you didn't pursue that internship at the Daily Prophet?"

Bridget shot him a sharp look and crossed her arms across her chest, obviously still sensitive to both subjects. "No need to be snide."

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry." He placed a hand on her arm, and he felt her instantly relax again. "I didn't mean it. It's just… Merlin's beard, Bridget… You're throwing your life away for him."

"I've told you time and again— _none_ of this is for him. You think I'd lift even a finger to help him?"

"Mum's the one that suggested you come with me," he said, playing his trump card in desperation.

Bridget turned and looked at him, and he was sure he saw hope swirling around somewhere in her beautiful eyes. "She did?"

"Yes, just a few minutes ago." Callum found her hand with his, and they were a comfortable fit like they'd always been. "So? What do you say now?"

"I… I can't," she said, her automatic response, and then continued before he could protest. "You know I can't just walk out on Mum."

"Can't you see it's what's best for you?"

"But what about what's best for Mum?"

"She's made her decision. I'd do anything to get her to leave him—leave this place. You know that. It kills me every time I see her with him, but I can't make her do what she isn't willing to, and either can you. She wants what's best for you more than anyone, Bridget."

Callum could tell Bridget was thinking fast and hard, and as the silence dragged on and he watched her pale face in the moonlight, he got increasingly hopeful that she'd agree to come with him. Then she spoke again, and his heart sunk. "No. Mum spent eighteen years of her life caring and sacrificing for me. I think I can sacrifice a few years for her. You of all people should understand that."

"Bridget…"

"Have you seen the old codger? He's only got a few years left in him at best," she reasoned, "I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't make it to the spring."

"And what do you do in the meantime?"

"I wait it out."

"And be miserable," he added.

"And help Mum," she corrected.

"While being miserable and throwing your life away in the process. Bridget, he could live fifteen—twenty more years for all we know. You can't spend your life wasting away here!"

"I've made my decision, Callum! I'm not leaving her! I can't." She sighed deeply, tired of fighting, and quietly pleaded, "Please try to understand."

"I do. It's just… it's not the right decision, Bridget, and I'm not going to pretend it is. I just hate to see you— _both_ of you— like this."

"I know." She wrapped an arm around his and looked up at him. "So are you going to tell me how you got that cut on your lip?"

"There was an attack at the World Cup," he muttered unenthusiastically in response. "Tonks says hi by the way."

"What? Really? What happened?"

Callum halfway shrugged, not in the mood to rehash all of the details, but Bridget wasn't going to let him drop it now. She nudged him and laughed. "Come on, Cal. Don't be grumpy. Tell me what happened."

"Alright," he chuckled, "Tonks and I were sitting on this log eating some nougat…"

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you all SO much for your patience. I know it's been over a month since I updated. Thank you all for your support!_


	25. Return of the Dark Lord

_**Chapter Twenty-Five: Return of the Dark Lord**_

* * *

 _ **Early July, 1995**_

There was no doubt in Callum's mind as to who the two beady little eyes peeking out at him from the window belonged. Visits to his childhood home had become more frequent the past couple of weeks, and so he wasn't surprised to find his father keeping watch. That seemed to be all he did these days. Callum reached the front door that was in desperate need of a new paint job, and he performed the secret knock his father had insisted he use—three quick raps followed by two steady knocks.

It was a minute before the door swung open, but only an inch or two. "Come on. You know it's me. You saw me coming up the lane." The door opened a few inches more, and Callum made his displeasure at having to squeeze through sideways known by sighing loudly.

He had hardly a second to spare before the door was slammed shut, barred, fastened, and locked behind him. "Oh, that'll keep 'em out for sure," he mocked his father who was already stationed at the curtains again keeping watch.

"Best I can do without a wand," he shot back.

"You really think they're going to bother with you? I'm sure they have a lot more important things to worry about."

"You don't know what they're like. You don't know them like I do!"

"Oh, I'm sure I don't."

His father shot him a glare. "Put a few away and think you know everything, dont you?"

"Let's not fight," came the reasonable and steady voice of Callum's mother. She planted a kiss on her son's cheek as she wiped her slender hands on her apron. "Good day at work?"

"Did you bring it?" his father asked instead.

Callum pulled that day's edition of _The Daily Prophet_ from his pocket and tossed it across the room to his father, who greedily began searching through it, his eyes desperately pouring over every page. Callum said, "Save yourself the trouble. There's nothing in it."

Once he'd searched for himself, the paper was angrily tossed to the floor behind him. "What's wrong with them?" he demanded. "Why are they covering this up?"

"How can you be so sure he's back?"

"It burns," he answered almost calmly, a far off look in his wild eyes as he rubbed his left forearm. "Just like it used to. It feels just like it used to." Then his eyes snapped back to Callum, and so did his voice. "How many times do I have to tell you this?" He added with a growl, "And how long until you find us a safe place to stay?"

"I'm looking," Callum answered him coolly, "It's not easy to find somewhere that meets all of your specifications."

"I don't care if we stay in a tent out in the woods! Just do it!"

"I'm not going to have my mother and sister sleeping out in the woods—"

"Callum, why don't you go help Bridget pack?" his mother suggested gently.

Callum resented this, but he bit his tongue. "She's not at work?"

"No. Um. We—" looking at her husband, "—Thought it would be best if she owled in sick. Again," she added as if she didn't approve of what obviously had been her husband's decision, not hers.

Callum sighed and heard her muttering to her husband as he left the room, "I'm sure Cal's doing everything he can…"

* * *

"Did you know him?" Callum asked Bridget a little while later. He picked up the pale pink cardigan from her bed, and an issue of the _Daily Prophet_ that he'd already read countless times was lying underneath. Albus Dumbledore stared up at him with his twinkling blue eyes, and above his photograph:

 _ **DUMBLEDORE: DAFT OR DANGEROUS?**_

Ever since the night of the 24th of June, the _Daily Prophet_ had seemingly made it their sole goal to discredit and smear Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Little to nothing had actually been reported on how the Hufflepuff boy, Cedric Diggory, had died other than that it had been a "terrible accident."

"Not really. I saw him in the common room or halls from time to time, but I don't think we ever got farther than a passing hello. I think we may have sat next to one another at dinner once… But he seemed to be well-liked." Bridget stopped packing and looked at her brother. "Do you really think he's back? I mean… could You-Know-Who really have killed that Diggory boy?"

Callum furrowed his brow. "I… I don't know. It's hard to believe that he'd be back after all this time."

" _Of course he's back," Tonks had said matter-of-factly over a butterbeer a few nights earlier. "The Ministry's trying to cover it up. Fudge is scared. You can't honestly think Dumbledore is lying?"_

" _No, of course not," Callum had replied with no hesitation. "I just… Potter was the only one who saw him, wasn't he? It's hard to believe that he'd be back now after thirteen years."_

"But Dumbledore says he's back. And _he's_ certainly scared out of his mind," Bridget said, gesturing toward the living room where their father was no doubt back to peeking out the curtains.

"It does seem like the Ministry is trying to cover something up. First Bertha Jorkins disappears, then Barty Crouch, and now this. There are too many coincidences and unanswered questions," Callum thought aloud.

The logical and nagging answer was to admit that Voldemort had returned. He was back. He'd murdered Cedric Diggory during the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry Potter had witnessed it all and narrowly escaped to tell the tale. That was the logical answer, but it wasn't the easy answer.

"I wish we had an idea of _where_ we are going," Bridget admitted as a stack of magazines floated over and positioned themselves in a neat and orderly stack in her suitcase. "Have you found a place yet?"

"Not yet. But you and Mum—"

"Should stay with you," she finished, playfully rolling her eyes. "I wonder how many times I've heard that? So long as you won't allow him in, Mum won't come either, and I'm not leaving her until all of this blows over." She smiled sympathetically when he sighed quietly to himself and returned to packing. Reaching over and taking his hand in hers, she gave it a gentle squeeze and consoled, "Don't worry, Cal. Once all of this blows over and Dad stops freaking out, I'm going to come live with you just like we agreed.. It'll be great. I'll see if there's a new internship open at the _Prophet_ , and we'll have a lot of fun together. Maybe I'll even see if Roger will take me back."

Callum's lips quirked into a sly smile at that. "I saw Roger last week. We bumped into each other in the hallway. He would _not_ stop asking me about you."

"Really?" she eagerly asked.

He nodded. "I don't think you have to worry about him taking you back."

She couldn't stop herself from smiling, but she decided to change the subject. "Have you seen Tonks lately? She said she'd stop by soon."

"She's been really busy lately.".

"With work?"

"No, it's something else. She hasn't told me, and I haven't wanted to press her."

"She probably has a boyfriend," she said, almost a reprimand.. "How many times have I told you to snatch her up? Now you're too late."

Callum didn't think that was it, but he didn't argue the point with her. Instead he smiled and said, "And how many times have I told _you_ that we're just friends?"

"Isn't that what they all say?" she teased.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and, as always, for your support! I know that of late I have been particularly bad about updating on a regular basis, and for that I apologize. I have no intention of abandoning this story-I actually have it written out to the last chapter in a second or third draft. One of the reasons I've been taking longer to update has been that I decided last minute to change how I presented this particular part of the story and threw out what I'd originally written. That's ONE of the reasons. Another is that I'm a procrastinator. ;) Anyway, hopefully I will start updating more regulary after the next few chapters. Thank you for your patience. Happy Holidays!_


	26. Death in the Family

_**Chapter Twenty-Six: Death in the Family**_

* * *

 _ **Late July, Early August**_

Callum's father had been thrilled when told of the small, secluded cottage that sat atop one of England's most uninhabited islands. His mother had been anxious for the move, he thought, though he couldn't decide why. Either she was relieved because, with any luck, it would put her husband more at ease or because she, too, was genuinely scared. Whichever it was, she did her best to hide it. Bridget was the one who seemed to be having the hardest time adjusting to their temporary residence in Foula.

It wasn't the charming, quaint little cottage one usually thinks of by any stretch of the imagination, but the best had been done to make it feel as much like home as possible. Bright red valances were sown and hung in the kitchen windows to replace the dusty, pale green curtains that Bridget swore smelled of a Bundimun infestation. The vase on the lopsided table was filled with freshly picked wildflowers as regularly as possible, and Leona had taken up teaching Bridget how to sew doilies in their almost maddening abundance of free time.

"You weren't followed, were you?" his father demanded the second he was inside the door.

"No, I wasn't followed," Callum replied, used to this question by now.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive." Callum deposited a brown paper sack full of groceries on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, good," his mother smiled, looking in the bag once she'd given him a welcoming kiss. "You bought the long carrots. How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it," he smiled back softly, kissing her forehead in turn.

"Did you bring the paper?" his father asked.

Callum tossed the paper at him without a word or even a glance. He wasn't sure why his father still bothered. There wasn't going to be any news worth reading. The _Prophet_ was determined to ignore what was going on.

"Will you stay for dinner?" his mother asked him, straightening his shirt collar with a loving touch.

One glance in his father's direction made up his mind, as usual. "No, thank you. I should be getting home."

"And eat what? Takeout?"

"I'll make… _something_."

"I've had your cooking," came Bridget's voice as she entered the room. "You should stay."

He shot her an impish look, and he saw his mother smile in amusement out of the corner of his eye. "You better be nice. You're going to be having a lot more of my cooking soon."

"I think _I'll_ do the cooking," Bridget corrected, and Callum just smiled at her. Soon she would be moving in with him and getting a fresh chance at life, and he couldn't wait. He only wished his mother would do the same.

* * *

 _ **A few days later**_

A part of Callum wished that he hadn't been the first to arrive on the scene. He wouldn't be left wondering if he could've handled the situation differently— if he couldn't have saved them. He wouldn't have the lifeless faces of his mother and sister etched into his brain for the rest of his life. He knew, of course, that even had he not been the first on the scene he would still blame himself, and he still would've made sure to see his dead family, no matter who tried to dissuade him.

He wondered why that was. Why did people so often feel such an overwhelming urge to see a dead loved one one last time? Wouldn't it be better to have only the good memories of them? The memories when those people were full of life and vibrancy, when there was a light and movement in their eyes and smile? He hoped that this wasn't permanent, that this wasn't how he always remembered them— cold, lifeless, forever insensible to their surroundings.

Callum wasn't very aware of his surroundings as he sat on a tree stump and stared down at his muddy boots, but he could feel Tonks' arm around him, and he knew Dawlish was still asking him questions with a notepad in hand. He'd stopped listening or answering several minutes ago, but he finally pried his eyes away from his boots. His boots weren't interesting at all but seemed to be the best diversion he could think of at the moment.

"Can we finish this later?" Tonks asked Dawlish. "Can't you see he's not up to being questioned right now?"

"I'm sorry, Nymphadora," Dawlish replied, and then continued in a raised voice before she could protest to being called by her first name, "But you _know_ it's procedure."

"I'm fine," Callum spoke, and that pleased Dawlish.

"See? He's fine. Now, let's continue. What time did you arrive here—" Dawlish glanced back at the cottage. There were gaping holes in the walls, the front door was off its hinges and was now lying on the ground, and half of the roof had been blown off in the fight. Kingsley had put the fire out with relative ease not even half an hour earlier. "At the— er, _shack_."

"I… I don't know. Maybe an hour or two ago?"

Dawlish glanced at Tonks, and she nodded in agreement. "Okay. And you said you got a good look at the assailants?"

Callum nodded, stiffening. "Yes."

"How many did you say there were again?"

"Four or five," he had to recall.

"Did you recognize them?"

 _That_ Callum remembered. "They were wearing masks."

"Masks? Okay… and you said the fight carried on out into the back yard—"

"They were Death Eaters," Callum continued, stone faced.

" _Death Eaters_?" Dawlish sputtered and then gave a chuckle. "Been reading a bit too much of _The Quibbler_ of late?"

"He wasn't joking," Tonks glowered.

"And Fudge has his own private army of Heliopaths," Dawlish mocked, but his smile faded when he saw that Callum was, in fact, serious. "That's impossible."

"I saw them. I _fought_ them," Callum said coldly.

"Huh." Dawlish crossed his arms. "So you're telling me that Death Eaters just happened to be out here on the remote island of Foula tonight, and they just happened to decide to attack your family?"

"It wasn't random. You know what my father did— _you_ helped put him away. It won't be long before they start going after some of the others, if they haven't already— like Igor Karkaroff or—"

"And why would they do that?" Dawlish demanded, "After fourteen years of virtual silence?"

"Why did they attack those Muggles at the World Cup last year? Why have people been disappearing? Why was Cedric Diggory murdered?" Callum shot back, attempting to make Dawlish see reason. " _Voldemort's back_."

"You've had a long night—"

"I know what I saw."

Dawlish stared at him, mouth twitching. Then he very calmly turned to Tonks and asked, "You arrived on the scene shortly after Rafferty, did you not?"

Tonks nodded. "Yes, I did."

"Did you see the assailants?"

"I saw one of them. Most of them had already fled the scene by the time I got here."

"And was the man you saw a Death Eater?"

Tonks cast Callum an apologetic look and then answered honestly, "I couldn't be sure. He was Disapparating right as I got here, but I know that it was—"

"Ah. You can't be sure," Dawlish repeated slowly and clearly, as if that put an end to the matter. "Thank you."

"I'm telling you, it was Death Eaters!" Callum insisted. Why couldn't he understand that? Why was he making this so difficult? Surely this was more than enough evidence that Voldemort was back and that his followers were feeling empowered?

Dawlish sighed, patience wearing thin as he tucked his notepad away inside his jacket. "That's all for tonight. We'll have more questions for you later of course, but you can head home now. We'll wrap things up here. I'm sorry for your loss, Rafferty."

"Listen, Dawlish," Callum began, but the older Auror was already walking away to join the broad-shouldered form of Kingsley Shacklebolt by the remains of the cottage.

He could feel Tonks breathe a long sigh beside him, but several minutes of silence passed before she said anything. "You know… it wasn't your fault." Callum had expected her to say that. He didn't make eye contact with her, but out of the corner of his eye he could see that her pink hair was losing some of its color, and he didn't think he'd ever been as thankful for anyone as much as he was for her at that moment. He felt his eyes burning again, but the last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Dawlish or Shacklebolt.

As if sensing this, Tonks gently tugged on him to follow her as she stood. "Come on. I'm taking you home." Callum wouldn't have protested even if he had wanted to as she silently led him through the grass and away from the cottage. Tonks' hand closed tightly around his, and he turned to glance back over his shoulder for one last glimpse of the cottage and yard where he knew three bodies lay, but they'd Disapparated before he could, and perhaps that was for the best.


	27. Mad-Eye Intervenes

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mad-Eye Intervenes**_

* * *

 _ **August, 1995**_

It had become Tonk's daily custom to stop off at Callum's desk of a morning around the time she knew his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ would be arriving— he usually needed a good talking down after reading it, and he was aware of this fact. Two weeks had passed since his family had been murdered by Death Eaters, yet not a word had been reported. He wasn't allowed in on the investigation, no info was relayed to him, and he very much doubted that there was actually any investigation going on.

Callum was seated at his cubicle on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Williamson bent over his desk, no doubt catching up on paperwork. Callum had his own stack of paperwork atop his cluttered desk that needed his attention, but his heart hadn't been in his work of late. Watching his coworker was a nice diversion as he waited for his paper.

 _Surely it has to get in the way?_ he thought to himself, staring at Williamson's long ponytail hanging down over his shoulder. _How often does he have to comb it? How long would it take to wash?_ _Has he_ _ **ever**_ _cut it?_ He tried to think back, indifferent to the fact that this was a royal waste of time. He'd become accustomed to the nagging guilt in the pit of his stomach— guilt at the fate of his family, guilt at his lack of enthusiasm in work— and could almost convince himself it wasn't there.

"Hey, there."

Callum looked up to see Tonks, her wide and ordinarily contagious smile beaming at him. Sitting herself down on his desk directly in front of him—no doubt so he couldn't ignore her—she swung her legs back and forth and picked up his Sneakoscope to play with. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just working."

"Huh. Is that so? Cause it doesn't look like you're working. It looks like you're staring at Williamson. I can't tell if you want to jump up and cast a full-body bind on him or if you're jealous of his fabulous hair. It could be both…" She pretended to study Callum's face. "Nope. It's definitely the hair."

Callum cracked a small smile, and Tonks accidently hit herself with the Sneakoscope and set it back down. "Mum and Dad want you to come over and have dinner Saturday night."

"I—"

And before you say no," she interrupted, a finger pointed at him, "They _really_ want to see you. Mum hasn't stopped talking about how you need fattening up ever since the funeral—" She stopped to see if he reacted, realizing what she'd said he supposed, but he stared at her to continue. "—and she's making treacle tart especially for you."

"Tell them I appreciate the offer, but—"

"Don't shut us out."

"What?"

"You know how much we love you. You've always been family. So please… don't shut us out."

Callum softened under her gaze. "Tonks, I'd never—"

"Then come to dinner."

"I doubt I'd be much fun," he weakened.

Tonks shrugged and teased, "So what's new? As long as you go for a second or third helping of everything, my mother will be happy."

"If you really want me to—"

"We do."

"Okay."

"Okay," she smiled, obviously happy, "Six o'clock sharp."

And there it was: the morning's edition of _The Daily Prophet_. It floated towards his cubicle along with an inner office memo, and Callum snatched the paper before it had a chance to settle itself on his desk. The office memo went ignored. Tonks said something inaudible (he wasn't listening), but he didn't need to listen to know what she had said. It was what she told him every morning: _"You really should stop reading that thing. It only gets you more upset."_

His eyes scanned over the paper quickly— he knew what he was looking for, but it caught him by surprise when he actually found it. His eyes settled, and he took a small breath. Gripping the paper tightly in his hands—so tightly his knuckles were turning white—he felt Tonks nudge his leg to get his attention. "Cal? Is it in there?"

Silently handing the newspaper over to her, Tonks' eyes wander to the open page. There, at the bottom of the third page, it read:

 _Mr. and Mrs. Rafferty of Bibury, Gloucestershire and daughter were discovered dead Tuesday night before last in an island cottage where they were on holiday. They are said to have died under mysterious circumstances. One report states that a witness claims to have seen unknown assailants at the cottage, but this claim has not been substantiated. Ministry officials assure us they are investigating the case._

Tonks was as surprised as he was that the _Prophet_ had mentioned their deaths and that the Ministry had given the paper any information at all. " _That's it_? _One paragraph_? _One_ paragraph?" he snapped, and Tonks pried her eyes from the paper to look at him. She didn't like what she saw. "That's all they could be bothered with— _two weeks_ later?" Now on his feet, he pulled the newspaper from her hands. "' _Mysterious circumstances?'_ " he read aloud. "' _A witness claims to have seen assailants at the cottage, but this claim has not been substantiated_.'"

He slammed the newspaper down on his desk, and Tonks jumped. He'd drawn the attention of several other Aurors by now, but he didn't care. "Just leave out the fact that they were _murdered_ — by _Death Eaters_! ' _Ministry officials assure us they are investigating_.' That's a joke…"

"Cal, I think we need to bring it down a notch," Tonks whispered, aware of the eyes on them, but he wasn't listening to her. He was past listening or reason at this point, and Tonks was getting scared of what he might do. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him out of the office full of cubicles and people and into the hallway where they couldn't be seen by the other Aurors and hopefully couldn't be heard if Callum would just keep his voice down. Which wasn't likely.

"You know whose fault this is?" he asked Tonks and then answered before she could reply, " _Fudge's_."

Tonks did _not_ like where this was going. "Callum, I know you're upset, and I don't blame you, but let's step back and take a deep breath—"

"He's covering everything up and putting more and more people in danger. He's a coward, and he doesn't want to face the fact that Voldemort's back because that might interfere with his precious job—"

"Cal, I agree, but—"

"The longer he ignores the facts, the more powerful Voldemort will get. My mother and sister were _murdered_ , but I guess that isn't important, is it? I'm going to go talk to him," he decided and turned to leave.

Tonks, thankfully, caught him by the arm and pulled him back around. "No! No, let's— let's go for a walk. Outside! We can get some fresh air—"

"My family's been murdered, Tonks," he told her, "And he's just sweeping it under the rug!"

"If he isn't going to listen to Dumbledore, he isn't— Cal, _Stop_!" she pleaded as he pulled his arm free of her grasp. "You'll lose your job! You've studied and worked so hard—"

"I know, but this is more important," he said, not thinking. All he knew was that he needed to get all of his anger out.

Tonks watched him walk away and huffed. She had to find Mad-Eye.

* * *

"Have you lost your mind?" Moody growled, his scarred face twisted in apparent anger. He had drug Callum out by the collar, and no matter how he struggled, Callum couldn't break free of his grasp as Moody pulled him along the Ministry hallway and away from Fudge's office. "Good thing Nymphadora called on me. You buckin' to get sent down to the Liaison Office?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Callum shot back even though he knew it wasn't true. He continued to struggle, and Moody's callused hand relinquished its hold, but Callum suspected it was voluntary.

Moody was in Callum's face now, his finger pointed at him as his magical eye wandered, no doubt making sure they were alone. "It's hard work becoming an Auror. I oughta know. Tonks swears by you—looks up to you. Really want to throw all that away for a few minutes with Fudge?"

Moody was right of course, as was Tonks, and Callum knew this. He had let his anger get the best of him, and now he would have to live with the consequences. All those years his mother had worked to send him to Hogwarts, and now he didn't even have a job to show for it. He couldn't help but feel she'd be disappointed in him, and that killed him.

"Can't say I blame you much for blowing up at Fudge," the much older and experienced Moody chuckled and then went silent, staring hard at him. Callum wondered if they were sharing a joke. Was he supposed to laugh? The silence was excruciating, so he forced a small chuckle. Moody's magical blue eye snapped back to him, and Callum went silent. "Keep your nose clean from now on, understand? No more outbursts. We need people in the Ministry. These are dangerous times. We must be vigilant."

Callum straightened up and stood taller. "What does it matter no? Fudge is going to fire me."

"No, he won't," Moody disagreed as if it was a fact. "I'll see to that. Scrimgeour won't want to lose you either. Now come with me. I have a proposition for you."


	28. The Leaky Cauldron

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Leaky Cauldron**_

* * *

 _ **Late August, 1995**_

Callum apparated into the dark alleyway. A gray cat ran down the alleyway and hid behind a trash bin. The rain was beating down hard that night, and the streets were beginning to flood. Pulling his raincoat tighter around himself, he rounded the corner of the alleyway and almost collided head on with a Muggle man rushing from a nearby record store. As soon as the man was in his car and out of sight, Callum opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron and stepped inside. It was warm and welcoming as usual, which always managed to surprise him with its dark tones. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, so he shed his soggy overcoat and hung it on one of the pegs near the door.

He hadn't taken more than three steps forward before being enveloped by a warmth greater than even that of the fire. A moment passed before Tonks pulled back from him, but her hands remained on his arms as she grinned up at him brilliantly, her dark eyes twinkling. "Wotcher, Cal! It's so good to see you!"

It had only been a day or two since Callum had last seen her, but he appreciated her effort at cheering him up. Tonks had been as bad as a mother hen with him of late. Not that he minded; it was nice to have someone who cared. He was sure he'd been walking around as if followed by a Pogrebin the last few weeks. "Come sit down. I have us a booth." She pulled him by his hand across the room and over to a booth, sliding in across from him.

"Moody told me the news," she enthused the second he was seated. "I've been bugging him for _weeks_ to recruit you!" Her enthusiasm and excitement would've worn off on him had he not been in such a bad mood. He managed a small smile, however, and nodded. "I was sort of surprised. I thought he didn't like me."

"I don't think that's it." She was still grinning. "He's just cautious. You know, ' _constant vigilance!'_ and all that. I have this theory that deep down, below that gruff exterior he's really just a soft old teddy bear."

When Callum cast her a skeptical look, Tonks winked back at him as if she didn't believe it herself as the server walked up. "I'll take the steak and kidney pie," she then told the server. "And a refill on my tea."

"And you, sir?"

"Just tea please," Callum answered.

"Oh, come on. You aren't going to make me eat alone, are you? That isn't polite," chimed in Tonks.

"I don't really feel like eating," he explained.

"He'll take the steak and kidney pie too," Tonks told the server, and Callum knew it was no longer up for debate. A part of him was relieved actually; he was rather hungry, but he hadn't felt like eating of late, so turning down food had become a habit of sorts. "Steak and kidney pie is their specialty. You won't regret it. We don't want you turning to skin and bones, now do we? Mother would _kill_ you."

Callum smiled a little at that and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks for being here for me, Tonks. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Don't mention it," she smiled, and that was as emotional as it went, but she did run a thumb over his hand. "So. Have any problems getting here?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Good. It's getting more dangerous out there."

"I did scare a cat in the alleyway."

"I thought _I_ was the one that almost failed Stealth and Tracking," she teased, and suddenly her hand in his felt very much like Bridget's used to feel, so he let go. "They're having a party tomorrow night at Number 12. Arthur Weasley's boy and his friend were made house prefects. You should come!"

Callum came up with an excuse—this was almost becoming second nature to him now. "Grimmauld Place? More like _grim_ , _old place_. No, thanks. That house is depressing."

"It isn't _that_ bad. Once you get past all the dust, the moldy house smell, and the old battle-axe upstairs screaming about blood traitors, it isn't half bad." She wrinkled her nose. "Okay, I guess it _is_ pretty horrible, but they _have_ been working on cleaning it up. I think it would be good for you. Anymore all you do is keep to yourself. There'll be friends at the party. I'll be there— I'll even do my Goblin impersonation if you come!"

Callum smiled at that. He did enjoy her Goblin impersonation. It was offensive to Goblins, no doubt, but then again what _wasn't_ offensive to Goblins? "I don't think I'll have time."

Tonks tilted her head and gave him her biggest _"are you serious?"_ look she could. "We're probably going to talk Ordor business, too. You wouldn't want to miss out, would you?" she tempted.

"I'm sure you'll catch me up on all of that later."

"Cal…"

"Okay, okay. I'll see what I can do," he told her so she would drop it.

Tonks huffed. She knew he had no intention of coming. "Callum, sometimes you can be as stubborn as a… a… how's that Muggle saying go?"

"Mule."

"No, I don't think that's it."

"Well, I'm still coming Saturday for dinner, so don't worry," he said as some measure of consolation. The server brought them their food, and after a few bites of their steak and kidney pies she asked, "Good, isn't it?"

Callum nodded, glad she had made him order something to eat because he was hungrier than he'd thought. He wondered if she was right about going to that party, too, but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He didn't want to go. "Is Scrimgeour still giving you trouble?"

"Oh, constantly," Tonks moaned, and he doubted that she was exaggerating by much, if at all. "I feel like we're on one of those Muggle game shows, except it won't end, and he just keeps asking me more and more questions. Has he been bothering you?"

"Not really. I guess I don't warrant as much scrutiny, not being as close to Moody."

"You _weren't_ as close to Moody," she corrected using past tense and then cracking a smile. "You're a member now, and thank Merlin's beard for that. Oh, by the way, what did you think of Remus?"

Callum raised a small smile at her attempt at a smooth and casual transition into the subject of Remus Lupin. "Lupin?" he resounded in a detached tone, "Oh. You know…"

"' _Oh. You know?'_ What do you mean ' _oh, you know_?'" she asked, poorly masking her unease at the statement.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think of him?"

He pretended to give it some thought. "There's not much personality to him, but I will say, he's got some _pretty_ cool scars."

Tonks shot him a hard glare before she realized he was playing with her. "Relax," he assured her, cracking the most genuine smile of the night and reaching across the table to give her arm a friendly squeeze. "I think he's a great guy."

"Am I that obvious?" she asked in a small voice, her cheeks the lightest shade of pink.

"You've only brought him up to me six or seven times."

"So you really think he's great?" she then asked, moving right along.

"Yes, I do. He seems like a great guy. Intelligent, modest, kind…"

She beamed. "I think so too."

"Think he seems like the marrying kind?" he asked, expressing a gut feeling he had.

"That… I don't know," she answered honestly, " _Yet_."

He took a sip of his tea. "Well, if anyone can find out, it's you."

She wrinkled her nose at him in a playful manner. "Oh, trust me. I will."

* * *

 _We'll be back to following Hermione's point of view next chapter. Thank you all for reading! :)_


	29. Playing Hooky

_**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Playing Hooky**_

Hermione sat silent, Callum's gray sweater draped over her legs. She had gotten cold at some point, but she didn't really remember when that had been. Her eyes were wet from crying, which reminded her very much of seeing Neville's poor parents in St. Mungo's, and she'd tried on several occasions to hold Callum's hands in hers, but he always managed to find a way to let hers go. Despite desperately wanting his hand in hers simply to be touching him, she didn't take this personally; she knew it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him. He blamed himself for his mother's and sister's deaths, and it was painfully obvious, even if he never said it in so many words.

"Again," he apologized for what must have been the third time, "I'm sorry I was short with you the other day. It was my sister's birthday—I was feeling down, but that's no excuse—and I feel _really_ bad—"

" _Callum_ ," Hermione sniffed. "Please don't apologize to me again."

"O— _kay_ ," he resigned, shoulders slumped as he stared at the hardwood floor. Hermione thought he looked rather like a whipped pup at that moment.

Hermione had completely lost track of the time—though somewhere in the back of her mind she knew no more than twenty minutes could have passed—and frankly, she didn't care. Callum, however, was evidently not as indifferent as she because he cleared his throat and started to stand. "Well, you're already going to be late to Defense Against the Dark Arts. We should head down."

Hermione's hand shot to his arm to keep him from standing. "Callum. You can't honestly expect me to go down to class right now, as if nothing's happened."

Callum didn't move to stand, but he didn't move to sit back down either. He just crouched there, not looking at her. "I know," he said as if it was inevitable, his face riddled with defeat. "That's fair. I guess… I guess I just hoped we could—act like nothing happened, that is—but… but you're right. I know I've let you down because I hid this from you, and I let my mother and sister—"

" _Don't even say that,_ " Hermione clipped, not relinquishing her hold on his arm. "That was _not_ your fault."

"Don't… don't do that." He shook his head. "I'm fine. I understand. I don't blame you. I kept this from you, and it's… it's okay," he rambled, "and—"

It was painful to watch him like this, and as Hermione stared up at him, she realized that he was under a completely wrong impression as to what was going on. She decided to interrupt him and put him out of his misery. "Callum, I'm not breaking up with you."

Yes, she was right. That was the problem. He latched onto her brown eyes, a mixture of emotions dancing across his face that she couldn't completely read—amazement, relief, delight.

"Of course I'm not," she assured him softly, her hand sliding down his arm and finding his hand.

To her own relief, he seated himself once more opposite her. His mouth began to curl into a grin, but he stopped himself for some reason she couldn't fathom and instead said, "Well, I wouldn't blame you. I mean… _if_ you wanted to. Break up, that is. I would understand—"

"Callum," Hermione interrupted tersely, "I'm not breaking up with you. I love you."

The words came out effortlessly and without hesitation—almost as smooth as honey—and she didn't regret them, not even when the silence that followed led them to just sit there, staring at each other blankly.

"You _love_ me?" he clarified.

"I love you," she said again, still as comfortable with those three words as she had been the first time. She had never told a man this before, simply because she had never _been_ in love before, but all of a sudden it felt so natural and right to say them. 'I love you' had been three words she'd always envisioned her stumbling over, blushing as her stomach tied itself in knots. But she wasn't stumbling over the words, she wasn't blushing, her stomach wasn't tying itself in knots—and she knew that this was because she was far too in love with Callum at that moment to experience any of those unwelcome sensations.

"I love _you,_ " he confessed instantly, not wasting another moment. Hearing _him_ say those three words did, however, make her stomach tie itself in knots— _wonderful_ , _sensational_ knots. She wouldn't be stumbling over any words because she couldn't find any words to say. She was speechless, and before either of them gave it a moment's thought, their lips crashed together. It was clumsy and wet from her tears, but to Hermione it couldn't have been any more perfect.

When they pulled apart for air, which was entirely too soon, Hermione thought she would rather have suffocated than end the kiss (as ridiculous as she realized that was). She opened her eyes, but she knew better than to look at him. If she looked at him, she would only want to kiss him again. _Not that that's such a bad idea,_ she thought as she scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Now that she couldn't see his face, the biggest grin spread across her lip, and she pulled his sweater tighter around her. "I love you," she told him again simply so she could hear him say it back.

"I love _you_ ," he replied, and she could tell he, too, was smiling.

When he didn't, she pulled one of his arms around her shoulders and laced her fingers with his. "You know, you're pretty good at this whole kissing thing," she told him, and she couldn't help but laugh at herself. Flirting was generally _so_ not her thing. Poor Viktor had tried to be flirtatious with her, but her attempts had fallen flat and had never gotten any better than a blush or lame "thank you." "Had much practice?"

"Not really," he laughed quietly, and she felt his free hand playing with the ends of her hair. The tugs at her hair were lulling, and she closed her eyes. "You?"

"Some," she shrugged coyly as she thought back to Viktor. His hand in her hair went still. She had obviously peaked his interest.

"Really?"

"Mmm," she hummed, her lips pressed together to keep from laughing.

Callum didn't say anything for a moment, his mind no doubt at work, and then he asked, "Ron?"

Hermione's eyes opened at that, and she sat there motionless, trying to decide if she had heard him right. Deciding that she had, she sat up and turned to face him. " _Ronald_? You think I dated _Ron_?" The thought of kissing Ron was as unwanted a thought as her kissing Harry—or Hagrid.

"Or was it Filch?" he asked, and she realized that he was teasing, but he was _definitely_ interested, even if he was playing it off as a joke.

"So Filch is my type now?"

"Well, you _have_ shown that you like older men."

Hermione gawked at him before laughing. "Callum, you…" Unable to find the words, she playfully smacked him upside the head.

"You know I'm only teasing," he laughed. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder again, still smiling, and this time he put his arm around her without her help.

"How old would Bridget have been?" she asked after a few minutes of silence had passed.

"Twenty-one."

"Think she would've liked me?"

"She would have _loved_ you," he answered, kissing the top of her head, making her smile all the more. Comfortable silence passed between them, but Hermione sighed quietly to herself. She knew it was most likely going to ruin this perfect moment they were sharing, but she felt they had ascended to a new level in their relationship today, and this needed to be said. So she took a deep breath. "It wasn't your fault, you know…"

"What?"

"What happened to your family—it wasn't your fault."

Hermione felt his arm slip from around her, and that was the _last_ thing she wanted. "Hermione, no. You don't… you don't have to do this."

She sat up and looked at him. "Do what?"

"Try and make me feel better," he exhaled, his hands rubbing at his eyes.

Hermione knew there was no going back now, but she didn't want to, even if it was ruining their moment. "I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to help you see the truth." She reached up and took his hand, both to hold and to be able to see at least one of his eyes.

"It's sweet, really, and I appreciate it, Hermione, but I know what happened—"

"Just because _you've_ made up your mind about what happened doesn't mean you're right."

He squeezed her hand, and she was glad that he did because it let her know he wasn't upset with her. "I appreciate this, honey, but…"

 _Honey_. Wow. He had never called her that before. She loved hearing him refer to her by an endearment—it brought her entirely new emotions that she wished she had the time to dwell on and chase, but she didn't.

"…I made mistakes, and I have to live with that now. The guilt is just… just one of the consequences."

"But you _don't_. You _don't_ have to live with that," she insisted in earnest. "There's nothing you could've done differently—"

"There are a _thousand_ things I could've done differently," he interrupted, and if she hadn't stopped him from continuing, he probably would have proceeded to list them off for her because she was sure they were often at the forefront of his mind.

"But there _weren't_ —not really. You did everything that you could," she continued to argue, not willing to let up until he saw reason, and if not today, some other day.

"But you weren't there," he countered.

"But I know you. There's no doubt in my mind that you did everything you possibly could have to keep them safe."

Callum's eyes searched hers, no doubt seeing for himself if she really meant what she said, and then he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you."

Hermione smiled at that.

"You're going to be _so_ late to class."

And when he moved to get up, Hermione groaned. " _I really_ don't want to go to class."

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Callum teased, a hand to her forehead to feel for a nonexistent temperature.

Hermione kissed the inside of his wrist as a way of response, and he laughed. "I think you're feeling more than alright. Come on. I'll walk you down." Helping her to her feet, he took her book bag. "I don't want you to resent me tomorrow because Snape gives you detention."

Hermione smiled up at him as she found his hand, and they descended the winding stares. Hermione couldn't have been any happier with how the day had turned out.

* * *

 _This chapter was reaaaaally mushy, I know...but thank you for reading._

 _I'm sorry if you didn't enjoy the departure from following Hermione to take a look into Callum's past, but I felt that his character needed to be fleshed out more. I had originally planned on having Callum simply recount the events to Hermione, but I decided I liked the idea of actually following his character through those events better._

 _As always, thank you for continuing to read this story! If you have any suggestions on how I could improve my writing or constructive criticism, I would be more than willing to hear from you because I'm looking to improve my writing, and I have a long way to go. Thank you!_


	30. Common Apparition Mistakes

_**Chapter Thirty: Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them**_

That April had turned into a beautiful month for spending time outdoors, and Hermione found herself enjoying her time outdoors more than ever before. Wether this was because it somehow managed to surpass every previous April she had experienced in her seventeen years of life or if it was because she had the perfect walking companion in Callum, she wasn't sure.

Hermione had toyed with the idea of inviting Callum to come home over the Easter holiday to meet her parents, but upon learning that he wouldn't be able to leave Hogwarts, she didn't mention the idea and instead wrote home telling her parents not to expect her over the holiday break.

"You're sure you don't want to go home?" Callum had asked with a doubtful look.

"I'm sure," Hermione had smiled.

Nature seemed as eager as anyone to announce summer's upcoming arrival, and this inspired a new variety of life around the castle. Students found every excuse imaginable to spend as much of their time outdoors as possible, and who could blame them? The warm sun and the blooming flowers were an invitation no one could refuse, except possibly for Professor Snape. Hermione was sure it had been months—possibly _years_ since he'd last seen the sun.

 _"Destination, Determination, and Deliberation,"_ Callum read aloud, his face hidden behind Hermione's leaflet as he lie sprawled on his back in the returning green grass.

The leaflet being read from was _Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them,_ given out by the Ministry of Magic to students preparing to take their Apparition test.  
Hermione, as she assumed the others had, received the leaflet with excitement, certain it would relieve her nerves for the upcoming test.

One quick glance had shown that the leaflet was, however, less than comforting and even less useful. Hermione had more reason to be confident for the upcoming test than any other student, seeing as she had managed to Apparate successfully twice before, but this didn't stop her from worrying. Worrying was, after all, almost second nature to her.

 _"One must be completely determined to reach one's destination, and move without haste, but with deliberation_ ," Callum continued to read. "You're right. This isn't much help, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Hermione agreed from where she sat beside him in the grass, fingers playing with the strap of her book bag.

 _"Inter-continental Apparition should only be attempted by the most highly skilled of wizards, otherwise risking splinching, severe injury, and death._ You aren't planning any long distance trips, are you?"

Hermione smiled at that but didn't answer. Instead she leaned over and put a hand to the top of the leaflet, lowering it until she could see his face. "Do you think I'll pass?"

Callum stared up at her, and it was obvious that he was no longer paying attention because his eyes were roaming her hair, which, Hermione was aware, he absolutely adored for some bizarre reason she didn't understand. She supposed she was pleased that someobody loved her hair as she had neer been fond of it herself.

"Have I told you today how beautiful you are?" he asked, confirming her suspecions and reaching up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Hermione smiled softly but persisted. "Be serious, Cal."

Evidently unwilling to be wholly serious, his hand fell to her red and gold tie to play with, and he replied, "Of course you'll pass. You've already Apparated twice."

Hermione allowed his small distraction with her tie, so long as she was getting responses relevant to the topic at hand. "Did you pass your first time?"

"Did I pass my first time?" he repeated, probably because he hadn't registered the question the first time. "I did. And so will you," he added with a big smile.

Hermione smiled back down at him. "I wish I was as confident."

"Just consider yourself lucky that you didn't throw up the first time. Most people do."

"Did you?"

He nodded. "All over my sister."

"Aww," Hermione laughed, moving her hand up into his brown hair as her gaze rested on him. "That's horrible."

"She never let me live it down."

"Well, can you blame her?" She leaned down and gave him a brief kiss and determind that it was her walking companion who made this April so perfect. "Did you hear anything more about the Montgomery boy?"

Callum's expression soured. "He died in St. Mungo's yesterday. They weren't able to save him."

Hermione felt sick to her stomach, and her Apparation problems suddenly seemed small. The thought of a werewolf tearing into a five year old boy was nauseating. "Do... do they know who the werewolf was?"

"Fenrir Greyback," he answered gravely, "He has a... predilection for children."

"Have they caugt him?"

"Not yet. They're looking. I wish I was out there helping," he sighed, propping himself up on his elbows. Hermione couldn't help but stare. She'd never heard him talk like this. "Sometimes I feel so useless here. People are dying, and I'm not doing anything to help."

The thought of Callum chasing down a werewolf—Fenrir Greybback, no less—or any Death Eater or Dark Wizard for that matter, which she knew perfectly well was part of his job, wasn't welcome. Yet Hermione realized that the Aurors stationed at Hogwarts couldn't stay forever. It was likely that next semester different Aurors, if any, would be assigned to Hogwarts, and Callum would not be among them.

Hermione would have no one to sit quietly beside her as she read. Both Harry and Ron were incapable of this task, but Callum was more often than not content to sit beside her and not say a word. She would have no one to walk her to classes, to sneak up to the Astronomy Tower with and enjoy the scenery, to calm her down when she was freaking out over homework assignments, and no one to pass the time with in the grass like they were doing that very moment.

Worst of all, Hermione would have no idea where he was or what he was doing. Instead of talking to him every day, holding his hand every day, she would have to wait days—possibly _weeks_ for a letter to arrive by owl from him. She could already envision herself reading the letter over and writing back, and then—then the waiting would resume. In contrast, Callum was beside her at that moment, and it had been a perfect day in every sense of the word. She could reach out and hold his hand any time she wanted, talk to him freely, and perhaps most importantly—she knew he was safe. There was no telling what this war would hold for the both of them, and the semester would be coming to a close in a month and a half.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione blinked once before returning her gaze to him. Nodding silently, she leaned down again and captured his lips, hoping that in this way she could communicate how happy she was to have him there. "Would you like to meet my parents this summer?" she asked in one breath, breaking the kiss.

She watched Callum's eyes refocusing on her, and then he cleared his throat and replied steadily, "I would love to. That... would be perfect."

Hermione nodded, grasping her book bag and swinging it over her shoulder. "Good."

* * *

Hermione and Ron gave _Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them_ a second chance the following day, but it proved to yield the same results—none. Hermione hadn't been hungry at lunch which was just as well she thought. The two of them and Harry found a comfortable corner of the courtyard to bask in the sunshine before they must part their separate ways: Hermione and Ron to take their Apparition test and Harry to his equally dreaded potions class where he would once again attempt to persuade Professor Slughorn to disclose his memory.

Ron, to Hermione's surprise, had the most _sensational_ idea of how this could be accomplished. Harry should use his vial of Felix Felicis—Liquid Luck, _of course_. It was the brilliant and obvious choice, and Hermione wondered why she hadn't thought of it before? Ron had impressed her, but before the matter could be discussed any further they were interrupted by a third year girl delivering a letter from Hagrid. The letter, in short, told of the death of Aragog, and it was evident by the water stains that Hagrid's large tears had fallen heavy onto the lettter.

Both Hermione and Ron went pale when the bell rung. Sixth year students anxious to take their tests were gathering in the entrance hall, and Hermione and Ron stood to join them. "Good luck," Hermione told Harry before joining the crowd.

"Can you believe Hagrid?" Ron asked in amazement. "Asking us to come to Aragog's funeral? After he ried to _feed_ Harry and me to his ugly, hairy children?"

Ron was visibly disgusted just at the thought of Aragog and his large family of Acromantula, and Hermione couldn't blame him. That would have been a scarring experience to anyone, much less a twelve year old with a fear of spiders. "No, I can't. It's not worth risking detention either. Hagrid can be a bit clueless."

"I'm nervous," he then admitted, changing the topic once they were among the other students.

"Dont worry. That'll only make it worse," Hermione told him sensibly, and she wished that she felt as confident as she sounded. "Don't overthink— it's _not_ Lavender," she sighed, a pair of fifth year girls rounding the corner.

Ron poked his head out from his hiding place behind Hermione. "Oh."

"Wouldn't brekaing up with Lavender be simpler than ducking around corners every time you think you see her coming?" Hermione droned, a hand slipping into hers and bringing a smile to her face. "Hi, there," she greeted Callum.

"Hi," he smiled back, and then added to Ron, "Hello. I'm looking forward to the game next month. It's a relief to have you back on the team."

""Thanks," Ron replied, ears pink.

As much as Hermione enjoyed listening to boys go on and on about Quidditch, to spare Ron (and herself), she tugged at Callum's hand and was relieved when he didn't protest. "Excuse us a moment, Ron?" she asked the ginger.

"Sorry to take you away from your friends. I only stopped by to wish you luck before the test."

"I'll need it," she huffed as they rounded a corner.

Callum flashed her a smile before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "No, you don't."

Hermione smiled at that and brought their hands closer. "Will I see you tonight after dinner?"

"Of course. You'll have to regale me with how you passed your test."

" _If_ I pass."

" _When_ you pass. Tell Ron I said good luck."

And with that Hermione rejoined Ron and the other sixth years but this time with a smile on her face.

* * *

 _Eek... I'm so sorry that it's been so long since I've updated. This life thing is interesting, isn't it? Thank you all for your patience and interest in the story!_


	31. A Great Night for a Fight

_**Chapter Thirty-One: A Great Night for a Fight**_

It was to no one's real surprise that Hermione passed the Apparition test with flying colors. Ron, however, did not pass. He had left half an eyebrow behind, and that, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by the examiner.

"Half an eyebrow though!" Ron grumbled as the two of them climbed the stairs to the common room late that afternoon. The topic had been the same the whole trip from Hogsmeade, and he looked positively miserable with his shoulders slumped and his hands in his pockets.

Hermione had done her best to console him as they'd walked along together. "You almost passed," she repeatedly reminded him, knowing her words fell flat but saying them all the same. If there was any silver lining to be found, it was that Ron and Harry could now take the test together, and Hermione was sure that Ron would pass the next  
time.

Upon entering the Gryffindor Common Room, the duo found Harry waiting for them in an arm chair. They learned that Ron hadn't been the only one disappointed that day, as Harry had had no success with the potions professor. "He scurried off as soon as he saw he and I were the only two people in the room," Harry explained to his friends. "I  
didn't even have a chance to talk to him."

The three friends went down to dinner not long after that, and Hermione found that her appetite had returned now that the test was over and done with. Their dinner conversation consisted of berating the Apparition examiner, purely for Ron's sake; and this, coupled with a large plate full of warm food in stomach, was more successful at  
consoling Ron than Hermione had been the whole day.

Following dinner, the three of them snuck up to the boys' dormitory, and Hermione and Ron watched with interest as Harry swallowed several drops of the alluring golden liquid from his vial of Felix Felicis. He had been hiding it at the bottom of his trunk, rolled up in a pair of socks, and Hermione thought that a rather bad place to hide something so valuable, but it was a very Harry thing to do.

There was a change in Harry almost immediately once he'd swallowed that golden liquid. Hermione could tell by his eyes. Confidence radiated off him, and that was saying something since Harry was not ordinarily a confident person. Despite his newfound confidence and the tone of authority in his voice, there was nothing he could say that would convince Hermione that Hagrid's was "the place to be."

"Hagrid's?" Hermione echoed.

"He can't be serious, can he?" Ron asked, as dumbfounded as Hermione.

"I... think he is," Hermione replied lamely as their dark-haired friend disappeared under the Invisibility Cloak. "Harry, wait.

"Harry, stop," she pleaded in a whisper, starting after him, Ron right behind her. "You'll get detention!" The two friends hurried down the stairs, planning to catch Harry before he reached the portrait door, but Hermione stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who stood in their way at the bottom of the stairs. Ron bumped into her from behind, and Hermione didn't need to see Ron to know that all the color had drained from his  
face.

Lavender Brown on the other hand, had plenty of color in her face. " _What were you doing up there with her_?" Lavender demanded.

Harry was long gone by now, and to make a bad situation worse, Hermione had the misfortune of standing inbetween two quarreling lovebirds.

What followed was a poor attempt by Ron to explain that he and Hermione hadn't been doing anything while, at the same time, trying to break up with Lavender in a roundabout way where he wouldn't be left feeling guilty. Hermione didn't think Ron would have to try very hard; there was no doubt that he and Lavender would be breaking up tonight. What wasn't yet clear was if Lavender would want to kill Hermione or not once Ron had finished talking. Hopefully Ron would be able to spare Hermione from any future drama with one of her classmates, but as flustered as he was, it was doubtful.

Hermione wasn't curious enough to stick around to see the outcome, and when the first opportunity to duck past Lavender presented itself,Hermione took it and made her escape. It seemed that Ron and Lavender's argument wasn't the only drama in the common room that night. Ginny and Dew were arguing in the entrance about wether Dean had pushed her or not. Making her way past this second set of quarreling lovebirds, Hermione darted through the portrait door and to freedom. What was this Couple's fight night?

Hermione made her way toward the Astronomy Tower where she knew Callum would already be waiting for her. She couldn't wait to tell him her news and see that proud, broad smile of his.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set when Hermione reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, and there stood Callum waiting for her. "There you are," he greeted, taking both of her hands in his as she approached. "I was beginning to worry."

"I'm sorry. I got held up."

"Well?"

Hermione bit her lip, hoping to withhold her news for a moment longer and build his anticipation, but it proved to be too difficult. "I passed!"

And there it was—that proad, broad smile formed across his lips just as she'd expected, but the overwhelming amount of pride in his eyes did catch her a bit off guard. He'd wrapped her up in one of the tightest hugs of her life before she could stare into his eyes for too long. "I knew you would!"

Hermione locked her arms around his neck, beaming, and took in a deep breath of his clothes.

"I'm so proud of you," Callum enthused when they pulled apart. "But not at all surprised."

He planted a kiss on her forehead, and Hermione pulled his arm around her shoulders and led him over to the railing. "Thank you."

"And you didn't throw up?"

"No," she chuckled, "I didn't throw up, which is surprising as nervous as I was."

"Hermione Granger? Easily the most qualified and prepared person there? Nervous? No, never..." he teased, earning him a playful elbow to his side. "I saw Hagrid earlier. I stopped to help him dig this huge hole. I couldn't understand a word he said through all his crying, but I think it was a grave."

"Yes, for that big, ugly Aragog," Hermione sighed.

" _Ara_ — _Aragog_?"

"He was an Acromantula that lived in the Forbidden Forrest. He tried to feed Harry and Ron to his children in second year, but Hagrid was fond of him."

"What? He tried to eat them? Why were they in the Forbidden Forrest? Why didn't Hagrid—"

"It's a long story, but you know Harry found the Chamber of Secret?"

"Yes, but—"

"I'll tell you all about it, some other time," she told him, intertwining her fingers in his. Harry's second year heroics were not high on the list of topics she wanted to talk about that night. Her mind was definitely somewhere else entirely.

"Alright, but—"

"I promise I will, love... later," Hermione consoled, nuzzling her head into him and hoping he would drop the subject and return his focus to her.

"Alright," he agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. She felt him rest his chin on the top of her head, and she smiled gently.

"Now that I can Apparate, I should be able to visit you some over the summer."

"Maybe," was not the answer she was hoping to hear.

"Maybe?" Hermione repeated, pulling away to see his face.

Callum stared at her. "I only mean that it's getting more dangerous out there. We'll have to wait and see what happens."

"So we're just supposed to go all summer without seeing each other? And all of the next school year as well? What happened to meeting my parents?"

"That isn't what I meant," he frowned. "Of course we'll see each other, and of course I'm going to meet your parents."

" _Maybe_. _We'll have to see what happens_ ," she countered, letting her temper get the best of her. Hermione knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she was overreacting, but the uncertainty of this horrible war they found themselves in was infuriating. Nothing had been the same since that night Voldemort had returned. Every goodbye now held the possibility of actually being a _goodbye_. There was no garuntee that Callum would get to meet her parents this summer; there was no garuntee that Hermione would get to return to Hogwarts that fall;there was no garuntee of them seeing each other after this semester ended; there was no garuntee of anything anymore. Everything had to be taken one day at a time.

Hermione's ordinarily ruling practical, logical side knew that Callum was taking the sensible approach to this, but Hermione didn't want to hear what was sensible right now. She wanted Callum to tell her that of course they would see each other—and often—and that he would get to spend lots of time with her parents over the summer and that her parents would grow to love him almost as much as she did, and that no harm would come to him—all things neither of them could know for certain, and he wasn't telling her any of those things. "I forgot that you said the other day that you wished you weren't here."

"I don't think that's fair, Hermione," she heard Callum say quietly as she pulled away from him. Crossing to the other side of the tower, she folded her arms across her chest. "That... that's not what I said at all. I said that I feel useless here sometimes, not that I don't want to be here. Of course I want to be here. I wouldn't trade this time I've spent with you for anything. I... I thought you knew that."

Hermione was silent. Had he sounded any less hurt her stubbornness would have held. Her senses were returning to her as she took deep breaths, and she wished more than anything that Callum would close the distance between them and wrap her up in his arms so she wouldn't have to take that first step, but she knew he wouldn't, not after she'd moved away from him.

"I do," she finally replied. "I know." She turned and leaned into him before her pride could get the better of her, and instant relief washed over her when his arms wrapped around her without any hesitation. "I'm just worried," she sniffed into his shirt.

"So am I," Callum consoled her."And I'm sorry that I upset you. I only meant that your traveling alone might be dangerous, not that we wouldn't see each other. If you think I'm going to be able to stay away from you for very long, you need to have your head examined for Nargles, or whatever it is Luna calls them."

Hermione let out a small laugh. "I know." She leaned up to kiss him but stopped short. "I guess this was technically our first fight?" she asked, her brown eyes searching his sadly.

Callum hesitated. "I... guess so. Don't you have to feel angry for it to constitute a fight? I'm not angry."

"I don't know," she replied thoughtfully. "But we should probably make this an extra special kiss—just in case."

"I won't argue with that," he teased.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you all for your patience and continued support! I'm sorry it's been two months since I updated. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. This one I worked on in more a rush, so there's definitely several areas that could use improvement. Thank you! :)_


	32. Teenage Heartbreak

_**Chapter Thirty-Two: Teenage Heartbreak**_

Hermione was in no hurry to return to the Gryffindor dormitories, particularly with the possibility that Lavender Brown was still raging war in there, but the choice to head back sooner rather than later was made for her when the Bloody Baron decided to groan and clank atop the Astronomy Tower.

Far enough down the winding staircase that the Bloody Baron's moaning was reduced to background noise, Hermione turned to Callum to continue their conversation. "Before we were so rudely interrupted... you were saying?"

"I was just saying that—"

"Tonks thinks we're a cute couple?" she finished.

"She does."

"Spend much time talking about me, do you?"

"More than I should admit," he smiled over at her. "Katie Bell should be released from St. Mungo's within the next few days."

"She is?"

 _Harry will be glad to hear that._

"She's been making a full recovery."

Reaching the portrait of the fat lady, Hermione let a small sigh escape her lips, reluctant to leave Callum and face whatever fate awaited her in the common room. "I'll see you tomorrow," he reminded her, tucking a strand of her bushy hair behind her ear. "And I'm sure Ron's girlfriend has gone to bed."

" _Ex_ -girlfriend, I'm sure, by now."

Hermione leaned up to kiss him goodnight, stopping halfway when the fat lady loudly complained, "Think I want to sit here and watch you two lovebirds? You ought to be in bed asleep, the both of you!"

"All the more reason," Callum impishly grinned, leaning down to meet Hermione halfway.

Letting out a small laugh, Hermione ducked her head to the side and avoided the kiss. "Don't. We make her any more mad and she's liable to not let me in."

Settling for a squeeze of the hand instead, Callum bid her goodnight. To her relief she heard no raised voices as she stepped through the portrait hole. The common room was empty save a few poor souls who were up late studying, no doubt pouring their hearts into assignments due the next morning.

She wondered if Harry had yet returned, and when she saw Ron sitting on the couch staring into the empty fireplace she concluded that he had not. Her ginger friend looked as if he had just witnessed a most gruesome death, and she wondered who looked worse: Ron or Lavender? With a deep sigh and deeper reluctance, Hermione approached Ron to hear the whole story.

* * *

The following morning while Hermione sat in Charms class, Harry filled she and Ron in on everything that had happened the night before. Not only had he successfully convinced Sughorn to hand over the long anticipated memory, he'd taken it to Dumbledore that very night. Perhaps most surprising of all was that Dumbledore was going to allow Harry to accompany him the next time he left Hogwarts to seek out a Horocrux.

Lavender Brown's eyes were heavy on Ron and Hermione all through class, and she burst into tears when Ron brushed some accidentally conjured snow from Hermione's shoulder.

"We broke up last night," Ron explained to Harry in a hushed tone, as if Lavdender could hear them after Harry had cast _Muffliato._

"Dean and Ginny broke up too," Hermione added and watched for Harry's reaction.

"A lot of breakups going around these days," Ron stated in a solumn tone.

"Well, _I'm_ still with Callum."

"Oh... yeah," Ron mumbled, his fingers busy brushing snow from his trousers. He cleared his throat and continued. "You guys broke up there for a while though, after that row in Hogsmeade."

"How many times do I have to tell you that wasn't a row? We never broke up," Hermione huffed.

"What was that about anyway?"

Hermione hadn't told Ron or Harry what Callum had revealed to her about his family, and she didn't intend to either. Or at least she didn't intend to anytime soon. She knew that Ron would make a big deal out of Callum's father being a Deatheater, and even Harry would be inclined to have reservations after learning that fact. Harry was acting paranoid enough already as it was. "Nothing. It was nothing."

* * *

 _AN: This chapter was short, rushed, late, and rather uneventful, so I intend to upload another chapter within the next couple of days. Thank you all! 3_


	33. Admissions of the Heart

_**Chapter Thirty-Three: Admissions of the Heart**_

Katie Bell had made a full recovery and been released from St. Mungo's. Immediately following her return to Hogwarts Harry had approached her in the common room. Unfortunately, Katie's recovery wasn't quite as full as had been hoped; she had no memory of who had given her the cursed necklace. The last thing she could remember was entering the girls' bathroom at the Three Broomsticks, a fact everyone was already well aware of.

"I was really hoping she would remember who gave her the necklace," Harry despaired.

"You were hoping she would remember _Draco_ giving her the necklace," Hermione corrected.

Harry glowered and shoved his hands deep into his pockets but didn't say anything.

* * *

Hermione usually looked forward to the end of the school year in June; she got to take her final exams (always one of the most exciting weeks of the school year), sit down to a final meal with her friends in the Great Hall, and go home to spend the summer with her parents. This year, however, end of term loomed over her like one of the tea leaves Hermione had been forced to pointlessly stare at in year three— dark and uncertain. This school year was flying by far too fast, and Hermione knew why.

There was more truth than she'd realized in that old Muggle saying, _"Time flies when you're having fun."_ Every day she got to see Callum was one day closer to June, when they would be forced to part ways. He reminded her often that he was going to meet her parents that summer and that he would visit her every chance he could, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the ever present anxious pit in the back of her stomach.

Hermione was trying her best to ignore these thoughts and instead focus on the plethora of topics that could occupy her mind instead, but her thoughts lingered back to June more often than she ever dared admit even to herself.

A quaffle flew past Hermione, barely missing impact with her head. "Watch it!" she snapped at the fourth year responsible. The whole school was abuzz with excitment for the upcoming Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match as it would be the deciding game for the House Cup. Hermione would have given the fourth year a sterner warning had she been in any less of a hurry, but she needed to talk to Professor Vector.

Rounding a corner, Callum appeared alongside her. "In a hurry, Miss Granger?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile and slow her pace. Perhaps she wasn't in _such_ a hurry. She hadn't seen Callum all day, after all. "I'm on way to see Professor Vector. I think I made a mistake on my Arithmancy essay."

"Oh, important business. You mustn't wait another minute."

"You must think it silly," she chuckled. She knew Ron and Harry did. "The way I take my studies so seriously."

She felt her books slip from her hand and a warm hand took their place. "Not at all. I admire how hard working and studious you are. You..." He cleared his throat and attempted to keep eye contact with her, evidently afraid he had hurt her feelings with his comment. "Well... I don't think there's anyone I admire more than I do you. You challenge me to be better than I am. Your determination, your passion, your intelligence, it's..." He struggled to find the right word. "...astonishing," was what he finally landed on.

The two of them came to a stop in front of Professor Vector's classroom door, Hermione too curious as to what he would say next to dare breathe a word. "Sometimes I look over at you and I can't..." His eyes darted away, unsure wether he ought to go on or not. Hermione was inwardly pleading that he would. "I can't believe that we're together," he continued, "That you _chose_ to be with me. _You_. Sometimes it just feels like this crazy, spectacular dream that I'm going to wake up from, but then I never do, and you're always still here—with _me._ "

Callum went quiet, his face as red as a phoenix's tailfeather. Reaching a hand up to rub his neck, he took a step back from Hermione. Callum was ordinarily so calm and collected and competent, even ocassionally mysterious Hermione liked to think, but at that moment he reminded her of a lovesick teenager. It was evident to Hermione that despite being several years older than herself and having more experience in the realm of dating, he'd never fallen in love before and was finding it difficult at times, particularly this moment, to know what to say to her. It was painfully endearing to see him out of his element because of her. "I'm sorry. I know that was incredibly sappy and.. unnecessary, frankly. It's just that lately I've been—"

Hermione didn't need him to finish. Throwing her arms around his neck she pressed her lips to his blushing cheek. Her eyes were burning with tears threatening to fall. Breaking the kiss as abruptly as it had started, Hermione took back her books and rushed into Professor Vector's classroom, closing the door behind her without a word.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure if Callum would still be out in the hallway when she left Professor Vector's office or not. But opening the door, there he was, leaned up against the wall—waiting. His face was no longer red; it appeared that he had been able to collect himself during the wait. Standing up straight, he approached her the second she closed the classroom door.

Callum avoided eye contact, no doubt still embarrassed and trying to hide it, but his little speech had thrilled Hermione to no end, and she couldn't keep her eyes off of his, a big grin spreading across her face. There was no doubt that she was smitten with him.

Reclaiming her hand, he said nothing as he took her books from her and allowed her to lead the way toward the Great Hall. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Callum broke the silence with, "I suppose you're hungry?"

Hermione nodded. "I wanted to get that mistake in my essay settled before I ate."

"If only I had known you when I was still in school. You would have been a good influence on my grades."

"A good influence or a distraction?" she challenged.

With a smile he admitted, "Probably a little of both."

Reaching the Great Hall, he handed Hermione's Arithmancy books back over to her. "I'd probably better get in there... I'm sure Harry and Ron are already halfway through their meal." Glancing down at Callum's mother's old book that had come in so handy, she said, "Thanks again for this. It's been invaluable."

"Don't mention it." He turned to leave, but Hermione didn't relinquish her hold on his hand.

"You haven't eaten either. Join me?" she asked.

"And be the talk of the whole class?" He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "I have patrolling to do. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione watched him leave before entering the Great Hall. She sat down across from Ron, halfway through his meal, but Harry was nowhere to be seen.


	34. What Goes Around Comes Around

_**Chapter Thirty-Four: What Goes Around Comes Around**_

Between Moaning Myrtle and Pansy Parkinson, the news of Harry and Draco Malfoy's duel spread through the castle like wildfire. The attack was practically all anyone talked about, and even the Gryffindor Common room wasn't immune to whispers and glares directed toward Harry.

Harry was to spend the rest of his Saturdays this semester in detention with Professor Snape, which meant that he wouldn't be playing in the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw that Saturday. Ginny was to take his place as House Seeker, and Dean Thomas was to fill her role as Chaser. This was the reason for most of the dirty looks Harry received from his fellow Gryffindors. Saturday's game was the championship, after all, and now Gryffindor's coach and Seeker wouldn't be in attendance.

It was a fitting punishment, Hermione thought. Harry deserved to be punished somehow, and Quidditch seemed to be one of the only ways to get through that thick skull of his. He wouldn't be in this mess had he not been stupid enough to use a spell he had no knowledge of, from a book with _highly_ questionable and unethical notes. With the help of that loathsome book, Harry had not only harmed Draco Malfoy, but he had cheated his way through every single potions class that year.

Harry was no potions prodigy, as Professor Snape and _anyone_ who had _ever_ sat next to him in potions class could very well tell you. He hadn't suddenly "tapped into a hidden talent" late in his academic years; he wasn't even getting by on luck. No, the answer was much more simple than that: he was a cheat.

While others—including herself—got by on hard work, determination, and study, Harry sailed to the top of the class by cheating. What did it matter that he had hardly ever so much as propped open a potions book, much less studied one? Why study and learn for yourself when you can get by on this Prince's hard work and intelligence instead? At least that terrible book was hidden away in the Room of Requirement now where it was sure not to be found again.

At Harry's return to the Common Room following a lengthy lecture from Professor McGonagall one evening, Hermione couldn't help but tell Harry that she'd told him so. Unsurprisingly, Harry did not appreciate this, and the two of them began to bicker when he revealed that he fully intended to return to the Room of Requirement and retrieve the potions book.  
What _did_ surprise Hermione was when Ginny suddenly stood up for Harry, even to the point of snapping at Hermione. This resulted in both girls not speaking to each other for the rest of the evening.

Hermione couldn't remember ever getting into a fight with Ginny. They had always gotten along well; so much so that Ginny had confided in Hermione for years now about her feelings for Harry, and Hermione had even given her advice on the subject. Hermione had fought with Harry from time to time, but never with Ginny. It was upsetting.

* * *

"How is Harry holding up?" Callum had asked the next day as they strolled across Hogwart's sprawling grass.

"Fine, I suppose. He isn't going to be playing in the Quidditch match tomorrow."

"Probably for the best," he replied, and Hermione was glad to hear that a neutral party saw it her way.

Reaching their destination, a shady patch of grass near the Black Lake, and a regular stop of theirs, Callum relieved Hermione of her book bag.

"I can't say I think much of the Malfoys, but still... that _Sectumsempera_ spell..."

"Do you know the Malfoys?" Hermione asked, settling on the grass alongside him.

"I've had some dealings with Lucius Malfoy in the past at the Ministry."

"Pleasant, isn't he?"

Callum only smiled.

Hermione stared out at the lake, thankful to have this time alone with Callum and hoping they wouldn't return to the castle until it was absolutely necessary. Scooting closer to her and taking her hand, Callum asked, "Is everything okay?"

Hermione shifted her gaze to him. It was true that today hadn't been a great day. She and Ginny didn't speak a word to each other, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't upset with Harry still. These frustrations with both Harry and Ginny had followed her all day, no doubt affecting her mood, but she hoped she hadn't taken those frustrations out on Callum. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I'm sorry," she immediately apologized, holding his hand tighter. "I haven't been short with you today, have I?"

"No, not at all. It's just that your mind seems to be somewhere else."

"I had a disagreement with Harry and Ginny last night. That's all."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Hermione took a moment to decide. She wasn't sure if she wanted to vent or unwind. Shaking her head, she decided to answer with a smile, "No. It's nothing a kiss won't fix."

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Of course I do. I just don't want to ruin the moment."

"Talking to me about something that's bothering you isn't ruining the moment. That's just part of being in a relationship and being there for each other."

"It would bother me a lot less if you'd kiss me," she told him with a smile.

"Being in a relationship is taking the good with the bad, regardless of—"

Since he wasn't taking the initiative, Hermione leaned over to kiss him, staring in disbelief when he ducked his head to avoid her. What had gotten into him?

"Talking things out is key to any relationship in life," Callum continued, no longer able to keep a playful smile from spreading across his face.

Catching on, Hermione laughed. "Callum. Be serious." She leaned toward him again, but this time he got more creative and rolled away from her.

"If we can't talk to each other about serious matters, this relationship is never going to last." A goofy smile still on his face, he got to his feet before Hermione could reach him.

Taking a step toward him, he ducked away from her and behind the tree. "Every good relationship is based on trust."

They were both laughing as they played cat and mouse around the tree. "A relationship is _nothing_ without trust."

Hermione grinned, finally catching ahold of his arm. "I caught you."

Callum laughed and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. "Happy?"

"Deliriously," she grinned up at him before he kissed her forehead.

* * *

 _AN: I'm sorry this chapter is so late! It isn't super polished, but it's an update, nonetheless, so I'm happy. :) Harry took quite the beating in this chapter lol, but I'm trying to stay true to Hermione's character. I hope you all are doing well._


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